The scapegrace must be over there, somewhere about Klaarvatsch. Claudie pointed to the horizon at the other end of the island with a gesture of boredom, and shrugging her shoulders, hastened to change the subject.
Claudie monopolised the visitor and he seemed to have no attention but for her, no look except for what she pointed out to him. Encouraged by her example, he stroked the shining backs of the cows; she made him taste the foaming milk with which the sturdy milkmaids were filling brown earthenware jars. In a neighbouring apartment other amazons were churning butter. The insipid savour disgusted Henry, who preferred to breathe the strong-smelling atmosphere of the stable, where his horse was engaged in chewing fresh clover, in company with the robust palfreys of the farm. In the garden she gathered for him a bouquet of lilacs and pinks, which she herself placed, not without handling him somewhat, in the opening of his waistcoat. "You must come again in the strawberry season," she said, stooping down, on the pretext of showing him some ripening berries, but in reality to inflame him by the enticing contour and flexions of her full-fleshed frame.
