"I big," said Georgette.
And her size consoled her for her fall.
The cornice of entablature under the windows was very wide, the dust of the fields blown from the heather on the plateau had collected in heaps there; the rains had made earth of this dust; the wind had brought seeds to it, so that a briar had taken advantage of this bit of earth to take root there. This briar was the perennial variety called fox mulberry. It was August, the mulberry bush was covered with berries, and a branch of the briar came in through the window. This branch hung down almost to the floor.
Gros-Alain, after discovering the string, and discovering the wagon was the one to discover this briar. He went toward it.
He picked a berry and ate it.
"I'm hungry," said René-Jean.
And Georgette, galloping along on her knees and hands, came following after.
The three plundered the branch and ate all the berries. They were daubed and stained, and all red with the crimson juice of the berries; the three little seraphs were changed to three little fauns, which would have shocked Dante and charmed Virgil. They laughed aloud.
Occasionally, the briar pricked their fingers. No pleasure without pain.
Georgette held out her finger, from which oozed a little drop of blood, to René-Jean and said pointing to the briar, "Pricks."
Gros-Alain, who had been scratched too, looked scornfully at the briar and said,—
"It is a beast."
"No," replied René-Jean, "it is a stick."
"A naughty stick," added Gros-Alain.
Georgette, again felt like crying, but she began to laugh.
