He toiled on for pleasure.
Pere Merlier was a tall old man with a long, still face, who never
laughed but who possessed, notwithstanding, a very gay heart. He had
been chosen mayor because of his money and also on account of the
imposing air he could assume during a marriage ceremony.
Francoise Merlier was just eighteen. She did not pass for one of
the handsome girls of the district, as she was not robust. Up to her
fifteenth year she had been even ugly.
The Rocreuse people had not been able to understand why the daughter of
Pere and Mere Merlier, both of whom had always enjoyed excellent health,
grew ill and with an air of regret. But at fifteen, though yet delicate,
her little face became one of the prettiest in the world. She had black
hair, black eyes, and was as rosy as a peach; her lips constantly wore
a smile; there were dimples in her cheeks, and her fair forehead seemed
crowned with sunlight. Although not considered robust in the district,
she was far from thin; the idea was simply that she could not lift a
sack of grain, but she would become plump as she grew older--she would
eventually be as round and dainty as a quail. Her father's long periods
of silence had made her thoughtful very young.
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