If he had had dealings with the wolves of the ruins of Gagny the old
women would not have been the least bit surprised. Nevertheless, the
young girls sometimes risked defending him, for this doubtful man was
superb; supple and tall as a poplar, he had a very white skin, with
flaxen hair and beard which gleamed like gold in the sun.
One fine morning Francoise declared to Pere Merlier that she loved
Dominique and would never wed any other man.
It may well be imagined what a blow this was to Pere Merlier. He said
nothing, according to his custom, but his face grew thoughtful and his
internal gaiety no longer sparkled in his eyes. He looked gruff for a
week. Francoise also was exceedingly grave. What tormented Pere Merlier
was to find out how this rogue of a poacher had managed to fascinate his
daughter. Dominique had never visited the mill. The miller watched and
saw the gallant on the other side of the Morelle, stretched out upon
the grass and feigning to be asleep. Francoise could see him from her
chamber window. Everything was plain: they had fallen in love by casting
sheep's eyes at each other over the mill wheel.
Another week went by. Francoise became more and more grave. Pere Merlier
still said nothing.
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