One day, Mère Maurice, being alone in the orchard¹ with Germain, said to him affectionately: "My poor son, I don't think you're well. You don't eat as much as usual, you never laugh, and you talk less and less. Has any one in the house, have we ourselves wounded you, without meaning to do it or knowing that we had done it?"  
"No, mother," replied Germain, "you have always been as kind to me as the mother who brought me into the world, and I should be an ungrateful fellow if I complained of you, or your husband, or any one in the house."
 
"In that case, my child, it must be that your grief for your wife's death has come back. Instead of lessening² with time, your loneliness grows worse, and you absolutely must do what your father-in-law very wisely advised, you must marry again."
 
"Yes, mother, that would be my idea, too; but the women you advised me to seek don't suit me. When I see them, instead of forgetting Catherine, I think of her all the more."
 
"The trouble apparently³ is, Germain, that we haven't succeeded in divining your taste. So you must help us by telling us the truth. Doubtless there's a woman somewhere who was made for you, for the good Lord doesn't make anybody without putting by his happiness for him in somebody else. So if you know where to go for the wife you need, go and get her; and whether she's pretty or ugly, young or old, rich or poor, we have made up our minds, my old man and I, to give our consent; for we're tired of seeing you so sad, and we can't live at peace if you are not."
 
"You are as good as the good Lord, mother, and so is father," replied Germain; "but your compassion⁴ can't cure my trouble: the girl I would like won't have me."
 
"Is it because she's too young? It's unwise for you to put your thoughts on a young girl."
 
"Well, yes, mother, I am foolish enough to have become attached to a young girl, and I blame myself for it. I do all I can not to think of her; but whether I am at work or resting, whether I am at Mass or in my bed, with my children or with you, I think of her all the time, and can't think of anything else."
 
"Why, it's as if there'd been a spell cast on you, Germain, isn't it? There's only one cure for it, and that is to make the girl change her mind and listen to you. So I must take a hand in it, and see if it can be done. You tell me where she lives and what her name is."
 
"Alas⁵! my dear mother, I don't dare," said Germain, "for you'll laugh at me."
 
"No, I won't laugh at you, Germain, because you're in trouble, and I don't want to make it any worse for you. Can it be Fanchette?"
 
"No, mother, not her."
 
"Or Rosette?"
 
"No."
 
"Tell me, then, for I won't stop, if I have to name all the girls in the province."
 
Germain hung his head, and could not make up his mind to reply.
 
"Well," said Mère Maurice, "I leave you in peace for to-day, Germain; perhaps to-morrow you will feel more like trusting me, or your sister-in-law will show more skill in questioning you."
 
And she picked up her basket to go and stretch her linen............