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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6276.txt b/6276.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee07e77 --- /dev/null +++ b/6276.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3303 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook The Money Master, by Gilbert Parker, V2 +#103 in our series by Gilbert Parker + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The Money Master, Volume 2. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6276] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 28, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONEY MASTER, PARKER, V2*** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + + + +THE MONEY MASTER + +By Gilbert Parker + + + +EPOCH THE SECOND + +IV. THIRTEEN YEARS AFTER AND THE CLERK OF THE COURT TELLS A STORY +V. THE CLERK OF THE COURT ENDS HIS STORY +VI. JEAN JACQUES HAD HAD A GREAT DAY +VII. JEAN JACQUES AWAKES FROM SLEEP +VIII. THE GATE IN THE WALL +IX. "MOI-JE SUIS PHILOSOPHE" +X. "QUIEN SABE"--WHO KNOWS! +XI. THE CLERK OF THE COURT KEEPS A PROMISE +XII. THE MASTER-CARPENTER HAS A PROBLEM + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THIRTEEN YEARS AFTER AND THE CLERK OF THE COURT TELLS A STORY + +It was hard to say which was the more important person in the parish, the +New Cure or M'sieu' Jean Jacques Barbille. When the Old Cure was alive +Jean Jacques was a lesser light, and he accepted his degree of +illumination with content. But when Pere Langon was gathered to his +fathers, and thousands had turned away from the graveyard, where he who +had baptised them, confirmed them, blessed them, comforted them, and +firmly led them was laid to rest, they did not turn at once to his +successor with confidence and affection. The new cure, M. Savry, was +young; the Old Cure had lived to be eighty-five, bearing wherever he went +a lamp of wisdom at which the people lighted their small souls. The New +Cure could command their obedience, but he could not command their love +and confidence until he had earned them. + +So it was that, for a time, Jean Jacques took the place of the Old Cure +in the human side of the life of the district, though in a vastly lesser +degree. Up to the death of M. Langon, Jean Jacques had done very well +in life, as things go in out-of-the-way places of the world. His mill, +which ground good flour, brought him increasing pence; his saw-mill more +than paid its way; his farms made a small profit, in spite of a cousin +who worked one on halves, but who had a spendthrift wife; the ash-factory +which his own initiative had started made no money, but the loss was only +small; and he had even made profit out of his lime-kilns, although +Sebastian Dolores, Carmen's father, had at one time mismanaged them--but +of that anon. Jean Jacques himself managed the business of money-lending +and horse-dealing; and he also was agent for fire insurance and a dealer +in lightning rods. + +In the thirteen years since he married he had been able to keep a good +many irons in the fire, and also keep them more or less hot. Many people +in his and neighbouring parishes were indebted to him, and it was worth +their while to stand well with him. If he insisted on debts being paid, +he was never exacting or cruel. If he lent money, he never demanded more +than eight per cent.; and he never pressed his debtors unduly. His +cheerfulness seldom deserted him, and he was notably kind to the poor. +Not seldom in the winter time a poor man, here and there in the parish, +would find dumped down outside his door in the early morning a half-cord +of wood or a bag of flour. + +It could not be said that Jean Jacques did not enjoy his own generosity. +His vanity, however, did not come from an increasing admiration of his +own personal appearance, a weakness which often belongs to middle age; +but from the study of his so-called philosophy, which in time became an +obsession with him. In vain the occasional college professors, who spent +summer months at St. Saviour's, sought to interest him in science and +history, for his philosophy had large areas of boredom; but science +marched over too jagged a road for his tender intellectual feet; the +wild places where it led dismayed him. History also meant numberless +dates and facts. Perhaps he could have managed the dates, for he was +quick at figures, but the facts were like bees in their hive,--he could +scarcely tell one from another by looking at them. + +So it was that Jean Jacques kept turning his eyes, as he thought, to the +everlasting meaning of things, to "the laws of Life and the decrees of +Destiny." He was one of those who had found, as he thought, what he +could do, and was sensible enough to do it. Let the poor fellows, who +gave themselves to science, trouble their twisted minds with trigonometry +and the formula of some grotesque chemical combination; let the dull +people rub their noses in the ink of Greek and Latin, which was no use +for everyday consumption; let the heads of historians ache with the +warring facts of the lives of nations; it all made for sleep. But +philosophy--ah, there was a field where a man could always use knowledge +got from books or sorted out of his own experiences! + +It happened, therefore, that Jean Jacques, who not too vaguely realized +that there was reputation to be got from being thought a philosopher, +always carried about with him his little compendium from the quay at +Quebec, which he had brought ashore inside his redflannel shirt, with the +antique silver watch, when the Antoine went down. + +Thus also it was that when a lawyer in court at Vilray, four miles from +St. Saviour's, asked him one day, when he stepped into the witness-box, +what he was, meaning what was his occupation, his reply was, "Moi-je suis +M'sieu' Jean Jacques, philosophe--(Me--I am M'sieu' Jean Jacques, +philosopher)." + +A little later outside the court-house, the Judge who had tried the case +--M. Carcasson--said to the Clerk of the Court: + +"A curious, interesting little man, that Monsieur Jean Jacques. What's +his history?" + +"A character, a character, monsieur le juge," was the reply of M. Amand +Fille. "His family has been here since Frontenac's time. He is a figure +in the district, with a hand in everything. He does enough foolish +things to ruin any man, yet swims along--swims along. He has many kinds +of business--mills, stores, farms, lime-kilns, and all that, and keeps +them all going; and as if he hadn't enough to do, and wasn't risking +enough, he's now organizing a cheese-factory on the co-operative +principle, as in Upper Canada among the English." + +"He has a touch of originality, that's sure," was the reply of the Judge. + +The Clerk of the Court nodded and sighed. "Monseigneur Giron of Laval, +the greatest scholar in Quebec, he said to me once that M'sieu' Jean +Jacques missed being a genius by an inch. But, monsieur le juge, not to +have that inch is worse than to be an ignoramus." + +Judge Carcasson nodded. "Ah, surely! Your Jean Jacques lacks a balance- +wheel. He has brains, but not enough. He has vision, but it is not +steady; he has argument, but it breaks down just where it should be most +cohesive. He interested me. I took note of every turn of his mind as he +gave evidence. He will go on for a time, pulling his strings, doing this +and doing that, and then, all at once, when he has got a train of +complications, his brain will not be big enough to see the way out. Tell +me, has he a balance-wheel in his home--a sensible wife, perhaps?" + +The Clerk of the Court shook his head mournfully and seemed to hesitate. +Then he said, "Comme ci, comme ca--but no, I will speak the truth about +it. She is a Spaniard--the Spanische she is called by the neighbours. +I will tell you all about that, and you will wonder that he has carried +on as well as he has, with his vanity and his philosophy." + +"He'll have need of his philosophy before he's done, or I don't know +human nature; he'll get a bad fall one of these days," responded the +Judge. "'Moi-je suis M'sieu' Jean Jacques, philosophe'--that is what he +said. Bumptious little man, and yet--and yet there's something in him. +There's a sense of things which everyone doesn't have--a glimmer of life +beyond his own orbit, a catching at the biggest elements of being, +a hovering on the confines of deep understanding, as it were. Somehow +I feel almost sorry for him, though he annoyed me while he was in the +witness-box, in spite of myself. He was as the English say, so 'damn +sure.'" + +"So damn sure always," agreed the Clerk of the Court, with a sense of +pleasure that his great man, this wonderful aged little judge, should +have shown himself so human as to use such a phrase. + +"But, no doubt, the sureness has been a good servant in his business," +returned the Judge. "Confidence in a weak world gets unearned profit +often. But tell me about his wife--the Spanische. Tell me the how and +why, and everything. I'd like to trace our little money-man wise to his +source." + +Again M. Fille was sensibly agitated. "She is handsome, and she has +great, good gifts when she likes to use them," he answered. "She can do +as much in an hour as most women can do in two; but then she will not +keep at it. Her life is but fits and starts. Yet she has a good head +for business, yes, very good. She can see through things. Still, there +it is--she will not hold fast from day to day." + +"Yes, yes, but where did she come from? What was the field where she +grew?" + +"To be sure, monsieur. It was like this," responded the other. + +Thereupon M. Fille proceeded to tell the history, musical with legend, +of Jean Jacques' Grand Tour, of the wreck of the Antoine, of the marriage +of the "seigneur," the home-coming, and the life that followed, so far as +rumour, observation, and a mind with a gift for narrative, which was not +to be incomplete for lack of imagination, could make it. It was only +when he offered his own reflections on Carmen Dolores, now Carmen +Barbille, and on women generally, that Judge Carcasson pulled him up. + +"So, so, I see. She has temperament and so on, but she's unsteady, +and regarded by her neighbours not quite as one that belongs. Bah, +the conceit of every race! They are all the same. The English are the +worst--as though the good God was English. But the child--so beautiful, +you say, and yet more like the father than the mother. He is not +handsome, that Jean Jacques, but I can understand that the little one +should be like him and yet beautiful too. I should like to see the +child." + +Suddenly the Clerk of the Court stopped and touched the arm of his +distinguished friend and patron. "That is very easy, monsieur," +he said eagerly, "for there she is in the red wagon yonder, waiting for +her father. She adores him, and that makes trouble sometimes. Then the +mother gets fits, and makes things hard at the Manor Cartier. It is not +all a bed of roses for our Jean Jacques. But there it is. He is very +busy all the time. Something doing always, never still, except when you +will find him by the road-side, or in a tavern with all the people round +him, talking, jesting, and he himself going into a trance with his book +of philosophy. It is very strange that everlasting going, going, going, +and yet that love of his book. I sometimes think it is all pretence, and +that he is all vanity--or almost so. Heaven forgive me for my want of +charity!" + +The little round judge cocked his head astutely. "But you say he is kind +to the poor, that he does not treat men hardly who are in debt to him, +and that he will take his coat off his back to give to a tramp--is it +so?" + +"As so, as so, monsieur." + +"Then he is not all vanity, and because of that he will feel the blow +when it comes--alas, so much he will feel it!" + +"What blow, monsieur le juge?--but ah, look, monsieur!" He pointed +eagerly. "There she is, going to the red wagon--Madame Jean Jacques. +Is she not a figure of a woman? See the walk of her--is it not +distinguished? She is half a hand-breadth taller than Jean Jacques. And +her face, most sure it is a face to see. If Jean Jacques was not so busy +with his farms and his mills and his kilns and his usury, he would see +what a woman he has got. It is his good fortune that she has such sense +in business. When Jean Jacques listens to her, he goes right. She +herself did not want her father to manage the lime-kilns--the old +Sebastian Dolores. She was for him staying at Mirimachi, where he kept +the books of the lumber firm. But no, Jean Jacques said that he could +make her happy by having her father near her, and he would not believe +she meant what she said. He does not understand her; that is the +trouble. He knows as much of women or men as I know of--" + +"Of the law--hein?" laughed the great man. + +"Monsieur--ah, that is your little joke! I laugh, yes, but I laugh," +responded the Clerk of the Court a little uncertainly. "Now once when +she told him that the lime-kilns--" + +The Judge, who had retraced his steps down the street of the town--it was +little more than a large village, but because it had a court-house and a +marketplace it was called a town--that he might have a good look at +Madame Jean Jacques and her child before he passed them, suddenly said: + +"How is it you know so much about it all, Maitre Fille--as to what she +says and of the inner secrets of the household? Ah, ha, my little +Lothario, I have caught you--a bachelor too, with time on his hands, +and the right side of seventy as well! The evidence you have given of a +close knowledge of the household of our Jean Jacques does not have its +basis in hearsay, but in acute personal observation. Tut-tut! Fie-fie! +my little gay Clerk of the Court. Fie! Fie!" + +M. Fille was greatly disconcerted. He had never been a Lothario. +In forty years he had never had an episode with one of "the other sex," +but it was not because he was impervious to the softer emotions. An +intolerable shyness had ever possessed him when in the presence of women, +and even small girl children had frightened him, till he had made friends +with little Zoe Barbille, the daughter of Jean Jacques. Yet even with +Zoe, who was so simple and companionable and the very soul of childish +confidence, he used to blush and falter till she made him talk. Then he +became composed, and his tongue was like a running stream, and on that +stream any craft could sail. On it he became at ease with madame the +Spanische, and he even went so far as to look her full in the eyes on +more than one occasion. + +"Answer me--ah, you cannot answer!" teasingly added the Judge, who loved +his Clerk of the Court, and had great amusement out of his discomfiture. +"You are convicted. At an age when a man should be settling down, you +are gallivanting with the wife of a philosopher." + +"Monsieur--monsieur le juge!" protested M. Fille with slowly heightening +colour. "I am innocent, yes, altogether. There is nothing, believe me. +It is the child, the little Zoe--but a maid of charm and kindness. She +brings me cakes and the toffy made by her own hands; and if I go to the +Manor Cartier, as I often do, it is to be polite and neighbourly. If +Madame says things to me, and if I see what I see, and hear what I hear, +it is no crime; it is no misdemeanour; it is within the law--the perfect +law." + +Suddenly the Judge linked his arm within that of the other, for he also +was little, and he was fat and round and ruddy, and even smaller than M. +Fille, who was thin, angular and pale. + +"Ah, my little Confucius," he said gently, "have you seen and heard me so +seldom that you do not know me yet, or what I really think? Of course it +is within the law--the perfect law--to visit at m'sieu' the philosopher's +house and talk at length also to m'sieu' the philosopher's wife; while to +make the position regular by friendship with the philosopher's child is a +wisdom which I can only ascribe to"--his voice was charged with humour +and malicious badinage "to an extended acquaintance with the devices of +human nature, as seen in those episodes of the courts with which you have +been long familiar." + +"Oh, monsieur, dear monsieur!" protested the Clerk of the Court, "you +always make me your butt." + +"My friend," said the Judge, squeezing his arm, "if I could have you no +other way, I would make you my butler!" + +Then they both laughed at the inexpensive joke, and the Clerk of the +Court was in high spirits, for on either side of the street were people +with whom he lived every day, and they could see the doyen of the Bench, +the great Judge Carcasson, who had refused to be knighted, arm in arm +with him. Aye, and better than all, and more than all, here was Zoe +Barbille drawing her mother's attention to him almost in the embrace of +the magnificent jurist. + +The Judge, with his small, round, quizzical eyes which missed nothing, +saw too; and his attention was strangely arrested by the faces of both +the mother and the child. His first glance at the woman's face made him +flash an inward light on the memory of Jean Jacques' face in the witness- +box, and a look of reflective irony came into his own. The face of +Carmen Dolores, wife of the philosophic miller and money-master, did not +belong to the world where she was placed--not because she was so unlike +the habitant women, or even the wives of the big farmers, or the sister +of the Cure, or the ladies of the military and commercial exiles who +lived in that portion of the province; but because of an alien something +in her look--a lonely, distant sense of isolation, a something which +might hide a companionship and sympathy of a rare kind, or might be but +the mask of a furtive, soulless nature. In the child's face was nothing +of this. It was open as the day, bright with the cheerfulness of her +father's countenance, alive with a humour which that countenance did not +possess. The contour was like that of Jean Jacques, but with a fineness +and delicacy to its fulness absent from his own; and her eyes were a deep +and lustrous brown, under a forehead which had a boldness of gentle +dignity possessed by neither father nor mother. Her hair was thick, +brown and very full, like that of her father, and in all respects, save +one, she had an advantage over both her parents. Her mouth had a +sweetness which might not unfairly be called weakness, though that was +balanced by a chin of commendable strength. + +But the Judge's eyes found at once this vulnerable point in her character +as he had found that of her mother. Delightful the child was, and alert +and companionable, with no remarkable gifts, but with a rare charm and +sympathy. Her face was the mirror of her mind, and it had no ulterior +thought. Her mother's face, the Judge had noted, was the foreground of a +landscape which had lonely shadows. It was a face of some distinction +and suited to surroundings more notable, though the rural life Carmen had +led since the Antoine went down and her fortunes came up, had coarsened +her beauty a very little. + +"There's something stirring in the coverts," said the Judge to himself as +he was introduced to the mother and child. By a hasty gesture Zoe gave a +command to M. Fille to help her down. With a hand on his shoulder she +dropped to the ground. Her object was at once apparent. She made a +pretty old-fashioned curtsey to the Judge, then held out her hand, as +though to reassert her democratic equality. + +As the Judge looked at Madame Barbille, he was involuntarily, but none +the less industriously, noting her characteristics; and the sum of his +reflections, after a few moments' talk, was that dangers he had seen +ahead of Jean Jacques, would not be averted by his wife, indeed might +easily have their origin in her. + +"I wonder it has gone on as long as it has," he said to himself; though +it seemed unreasonable that his few moments with her, and the story told +him by the Clerk of the Court, should enable him to come to any definite +conclusion. But at eighty-odd Judge Carcasson was a Solon and a Solomon +in one. He had seen life from all angles, and he was not prepared to +give any virtue or the possession of any virtue too much rope; while +nothing in life surprised him. + +"How would you like to be a judge?" he asked of Zoe, suddenly taking her +hand in his. A kinship had been at once established between them, so +little has age, position, and intellect to do with the natural +gravitations of human nature. + +She did not answer direct, and that pleased him. "If I were a judge I +should have no jails," she said. "What would you do with the bad +people?" he asked. + +"I would put them alone on a desert island, or out at sea in a little +boat, or out on the prairies without a horse, so that they'd have to work +for their lives." + +"Oh, I see! If M. Fille here set fire to a house, you would drop him on +the prairie far away from everything and everybody and let him 'root hog +or die'?" + +"Don't you think it would kill him or cure him?" she asked whimsically. + +The Judge laughed, his eyes twinkling. "That's what they did when the +world was young, dear ma'm'selle. There was no time to build jails. +Alone on the prairie--a separate prairie for every criminal--that would +take a lot of space; but the idea is all right. It mightn't provide the +proper degree of punishment, however. But that is being too particular. +Alone on the prairie for punishment--well, I should like to see it +tried." + +He remembered that saying of his long after, while yet he was alive, +and a tale came to him from the prairies which made his eyes turn +more intently towards a land that is far off, where the miserable +miscalculations and mistakes of this world are readjusted. Now he was +only conscious of a primitive imagination looking out of a young girl's +face, and making a bridge between her understanding and his own. + +"What else would you do if you were a judge?" he asked presently. + +"I would make my father be a miller," she replied. "But he is a miller, +I hear." + +"But he is so many other things--so many. If he was only a miller we +should have more of him. He is at home only a little. If I get up early +enough in the morning, or if I am let stay up at night late enough, I see +him; but that is not enough--is it, mother?" she added with a sudden +sense that she had gone too far, that she ought not to say this perhaps. + +The woman's face had darkened for an instant, and irritation showed in +her eyes, but by an effort of the will she controlled herself. + +"Your father knows best what he can do and can't do," she said evenly. + +"But you would not let a man judge for himself, would you, ma'm'selle?" +asked the old inquisitor. "You would judge for the man what was best for +him to do?" + +"I would judge for my father," she replied. "He is too good a man to +judge for himself." + +"Well, there's a lot of sense in that, ma'm'selle philosophe," answered +Judge Carcasson. "You would make the good idle, and make the bad work. +The good you would put in a mill to watch the stones grind, and the bad +you would put on a prairie alone to make the grist for the grinding. +Ma'm'selle, we must be friends--is it not so?" + +"Haven't we always been friends?" the young girl asked with the look of +a visionary suddenly springing up in her eyes. + +Here was temperament indeed. She pleased Judge Carcasson greatly. "But +yes, always, and always, and always," he replied. Inwardly he said to +himself, "I did not see that at first. It is her father in her. + +"Zoe!" said her mother reprovingly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE CLERK OF THE COURT ENDS HIS STORY + +A moment afterwards the Judge, as he walked down the street still arm in +arm with the Clerk of the Court, said: "That child must have good luck, +or she will not have her share of happiness. She has depths that are not +deep enough." Presently he added, "Tell me, my Clerk, the man--Jean +Jacques--he is so much away--has there never been any talk about--about." + +"About--monsieur le juge?" asked M. Fille rather stiffly. "For instance +--about what?" + +"For instance, about a man--not Jean Jacques." + +The lips of the Clerk of the Court tightened. "Never at any time--till +now, monsieur le juge." + +"Ah--till now!" + +The Clerk of the Court blushed. What he was about to say was difficult, +but he alone of all the world guessed at the tragedy which was hovering +over Jean Jacques' home. By chance he had seen something on an afternoon +of three days before, and he had fled from it as a child would fly from a +demon. He was a purist at law, but he was a purist in life also, and not +because the flush of youth had gone and his feet were on the path which +leads into the autumn of a man's days. The thing he had seen had been +terribly on his mind, and he had felt that his own judgment was not +sufficient for the situation, that he ought to tell someone. + +The Cure was the only person who had come to his mind when he became +troubled to the point of actual mental agony. But the new curb, +M. Savry, was not like the Old Cure, and, besides, was it not stepping +between the woman and her confessional? Yet he felt that something ought +to be done. It never occurred to him to speak to Jean Jacques. That +would have seemed so brutal to the woman. It came to him to speak to +Carmen, but he knew that he dared not do so. He could not say to a +woman that which must shame her before him, she who had kept her head +so arrogantly high--not so much to him, however, as to the rest of the +world. He had not the courage; and yet he had fear lest some awful thing +would at any moment now befall the Manor Cartier. If it did, he would +feel himself to blame had he done nothing to stay the peril. So far he +was the only person who could do so, for he was the only person who knew! + +The Judge could feel his friend's arm tremble with emotion, and he said: +"Come, now, my Plato, what is it? A man has come to disturb the peace of +Jean Jacques, our philosophe, eh?" + +"That is it, monsieur--a man of a kind." + +"Oh, of course, my bambino, of course, a man 'of a kind,' or there would +be no peace disturbed. You want to tell me, I see. Proceed then; there +is no reason why you should not. I am secret. I have seen much. I have +no prejudices. As you will, however; but I can see it would relieve your +mind to tell me. In truth I felt there was something when I saw you look +at her first, when you spoke to her, when she talked with me. She is a +fine figure of a woman, and Jean Jacques, as you say, is much away from +home. In fact he neglects her--is it not so?" + +"He means it not, but it is so. His life is full of--" + +"Yes, yes, of stores and ash-factories and debtors and lightning-rods and +lime-kilns, and mortgaged farms, and the price of wheat--but certainly, +I understand it all, my Fille. She is too much alone, and if she has +travelled by the compass all these thirteen years without losing the +track, it is something to the credit of human nature." + +"Ah, monsieur, a vow before the good God--!" The Judge interrupted +sharply. "Tut, tut--these vows! Do you not know that a vow may be a +thing that ruins past redemption? A vow is sacred. Well, a poor mortal +in one moment of weakness breaks it. Then there is a sense of awful +shame of being lost, of never being able to put right the breaking of the +vow, though the rest can be put right by sorrow and repentance! I would +have no vows. They haunt like ghosts when they are broken, they torture +like fire then. Don't talk to me of vows. It is not vows that keep the +world right, but the prayer of a man's soul from day to day." + +The Judge's words sounded almost blasphemous to M. Fille. A vow not +keep the world right! Then why the vows of the Church at baptism, +at confirmation, at marriage? Why the vows of the priests, of the nuns, +of those who had given themselves to eternal service? Monsieur had +spoken terrible things. And yet he had said at the last: "It is not vows +that keep the world right, but the prayer of a man's soul from day to +day." That was not heretical, or atheistic, or blasphemous. It sounded +logical and true and good. + +He was about to say that, to some people, vows were the only way of +keeping them to their duty--and especially women--but the Judge added +gently: "I would not for the world hurt your sensibilities, my little +Clerk, and we are not nearly so far apart as you think at the minute. +Thank God, I keep the faith that is behind all faith--the speech of a +man's soul with God. . . . But there, if you can, let us hear what +man it is who disturbs the home of the philosopher. It is not my Fille, +that's sure." + +He could not resist teasing, this judge who had a mind of the most rare +uprightness; and he was not always sorry when his teasing hurt; for, to +his mind, men should be lashed into strength, when they drooped over the +tasks of life; and what so sharp a lash as ridicule or satire! + +"Proceed, my friend," he urged brusquely, not waiting for the gasp of +pained surprise of the little Clerk to end. He was glad to see the +figure beside him presently straighten itself, as though to be braced for +a task of difficulty. Indignation and resentment were good things to +stiffen a man's back. + +"It was three days ago," said M. Fille. "I saw it with my own eyes. +I had come to the Manor Cartier by the road, down the hill--Mont Violet-- +behind the house. I could see into the windows of the house. There was +no reason why I should not see--there never has been a reason," he added, +as though to justify himself. + +"Of course, of course, my friend. One's eyes are open, and one sees what +one sees, without looking for it. Proceed." + +"As I looked down I saw Madame with a man's arms round her, and his lips +to hers. It was not Jean Jacques." + +"Of course, of course. Proceed. What did you do?" + +"I stopped. I fell back--" + +"Of course. Behind a tree?" + +"Behind some elderberry bushes." + +"Of course. Elderberry bushes--that's better than a tree. I am very +fond of elderberry wine when it is new. Proceed." + +The Clerk of the Court shrank. What did it matter whether or no the +Judge liked elderberry wine, when the world was falling down for Jean +Jacques and his Zoe--and his wife. But with a sigh he continued: "There +is nothing more. I stayed there for awhile, and then crept up the hill +again, and came back to my home and locked myself in." + +"What had you done that you should lock yourself in?" + +"Ah, monsieur, how can I explain such things? Perhaps I was ashamed that +I had seen things I should not have seen. I do not blush that I wept for +the child, who is--but you saw her, monsieur le juge." + +"Yes, yes, the little Zoe, and the little philosopher. Proceed." + +"What more is there to tell!" + +"A trifle perhaps, as you will think," remarked the Judge ironically, but +as one who, finding a crime, must needs find the criminal too. "I must +ask you to inform the Court who was the too polite friend of Madame." + +"Monsieur, pardon me. I forgot. It is essential, of course. You must +know that there is a flume, a great wooden channel--" + +"Yes, yes. I comprehend. Once I had a case of a flume. It was fifteen +feet deep and it let in the water of the river to the mill-wheels. A +flume regulates, concentrates, and controls the water power. I +comprehend perfectly. Well?" + +"So. This flume for Jean Jacques' mill was also fifteen feet deep or +more. It was out of repair, and Jean Jacques called in a master- +carpenter from Laplatte, Masson by name--George Masson--to put the flume +right." + +"How long ago was that?" + +"A month ago. But Masson was not here all the time. It was his workmen +who did the repairs, but he came over to see--to superintend. At first +he came twice in the week. Then he came every day." + +"Ah, then he came every day! How do you know that?" + +"It was my custom to walk to the mill every day--to watch the work on the +flume. It was only four miles away across the fields and through the +woods, making a walk of much charm--especially in the autumn, when the +colours of the foliage are so fine, and the air has a touch of +pensiveness, so that one is induced to reflection." + +There was the slightest tinge of impatience in the Judge's response. +"Yes, yes, I understand. You walked to study life and to reflect and to +enjoy your intimacy with nature, but also to see our friend Zoe and her +home. And I do not wonder. She has a charm which makes me sad-- +for her." + +"So I have felt, so I have felt for her, monsieur. When she is gayest, +and when, as it might seem, I am quite happy, talking to her, or +picnicking, or idling on the river, or helping her with her lessons, +I have sadness, I know not why." + +The Judge pressed his friend's arm firmly. His voice grew more +insistent. "Now, Maitre Fille, I think I understand the story, but there +are lacunee which you must fill. You say the thing happened three days +ago--now, when will the work be finished?" + +"The work will be finished to-morrow, monsieur. Only one workman is +left, and he will be quit of his task to-night." + +"So the thing--the comedy or tragedy will come to an end to-morrow?" +remarked the Judge seriously. "How did you find out that the workmen +go tomorrow, maitre?" + +"Jean Jacques--he told me yesterday." + +"Then it all ends to-morrow," responded the Judge. + +The puzzled subordinate stood almost still, and looked at the Judge in +wonder. Why should it all end to-morrow simply because the work was +finished at the flume? At last he spoke. + +"It is only twelve miles to Laplatte where George Masson lives, and he +has, besides, another contract near here, but three miles from the Manor +Cartier. Also besides, how can we know what she will do--Jean Jacques' +wife. How can we tell but that she will perhaps go and leave the beloved +Zoe alone!" + +"And leave our little philosopher--miller also alone?" remarked the +Judge quizzically, yet with solemnity. M. Fille was agitated; he made +a protesting gesture. "Jean Jacques can find comfort, but the child--ah, +no, it is too terrible! Someone should speak. I tried to do it--to +Madame Carmen, to Jean Jacques; but it was no use. How could I betray +her to him, how could I tell her that I knew her shame!" + +The Judge turned brusquely and caught his friend by the shoulders, +fastening him with the eyes which had made many a witness forget to lie. + +"If you were an avocat in practice I would ruin your reputation, Fille," +he said. "A fool would tell Jean Jacques, or speak to the woman, and +spoil all; for women go mad when they are in danger, and they do the +impossible things. But did it not occur to you that the one person to +have in a quiet room with the doors shut, with the light of the sun in +his face, with the book of the law open on your desk and the damages to +be got by an injured husband, in a Catholic province with a Catholic +Judge, written down on a piece of paper, to hand over at the right +moment--did it not strike you that that person was your George Masson?" + +M. Fille's head dropped before the disdainful eyes of M. Carcasson. He +who prided himself in keeping the court right on points of procedure, who +was looked upon almost with the respect given the position of the Judge +himself, that he should fail in thinking of the obvious thing was +humiliating, and alas! so disconcerting. + +"I am a fool, an imbecile," he responded, in great dejection. + +"This much must be said, my imbecile, that every man some time or other +makes just such a fool of his intelligence," was the soft reply. + +A thin hand made a gesture of dissent. "Not you, monsieur. Never!" + +"If it is any comfort to you, know then, my Solon, that I have done so +publicly in my time, while you have only done it privately. But let us +see. That Masson must be struck of a heap. What sort of a man is he to +look at? Apart from his morals, what class of creature is he?" + +"He is a man of strength, of force in his way, monsieur. He made himself +from an apprentice without a cent, and he has now thirty men at work." + +"Then he does not drink or gamble?" + +"Neither, monsieur." + +"Has he a family?" + +"No, monsieur." + +"How old is he?" + +"Forty or thereabouts, monsieur." + +The Judge cogitated for a moment, then said: "Ah, that's bad--unmarried +and forty, and no vices except this. It gives him few escape-valves. Is +he good-looking? What is his appearance?" + +"Nor short, nor tall, and square shoulders. His face like the yellow +brown of a peach, hair that curls close to his head, blue eyes that see +everything, and a big hand that knows what it is doing." + +The Judge nodded. "Ah, you have watched him, maitre. . . . When? +Since then?" + +"No, no, monsieur, not since. If I had watched him since, I should +perhaps have thought of the right thing to do. But I did not. I used to +study him while the work was going on, when he first came, but I have +known him some time from a distance. If a man makes himself what he is, +you look at him, of course." + +"Truly. His temper--his disposition, what is it?" M. Fille was very +much alive now. He replied briskly. "Like the snap of a whip. He flies +into anger and flies out. He has a laugh that makes men say, 'How he +enjoys himself !' and his mind is very quick and sure." + +The Judge nodded with satisfaction. "Well done! Well done! I have got +him in my eye. He will not be so easy to handle; but, if he has brains, +he will see that you have the right end of the stick; and he will kiss +and ride away. It will not be easy, but the game is in your hands, my +Fille. In a quiet room, with the book of the law open, and figures of +damages given by a Catholic court and Judge--I think that will do it; and +then the course of true philosophy will not long be interrupted in the +house of Jean Jacques Barbille." + +"Monsieur--monsieur le juge, you mean that I shall do this, shall see +George Masson and warn him--me?" + +"Who else? You are a friend of the family. You are a public officer, to +whom the good name of your parish is dear. As all are aware, no doubt, +you are the trusted ancient comrade of the daughter of the woman--I speak +legally--Carmen Barbille nee Dolores, a name of charm to the ear. Who +but you then to do it?" + +"There is yourself, monsieur." + +"Dismiss me from your mind. I go to Quebec to-night, as you know, and +there is not time; but even if there were, I should not be the best +person to do this. I am known to few; you are known to all. I have no +locus standi. You have. No, no, it would not be for me." + +Suddenly, in his desperation, the Clerk of the Court sought release for +himself from this solemn and frightening duty. + +"Monsieur," he said eagerly, "there is another. I had forgotten. It is +Madame Carmen's father, Sebastian Dolores." + +"Ah, a father! Yes, I had forgotten to ask about him; so we are one in +our imbecility, my little Aristotle. This Sebastian Dolores, where is +he?" + +"In the next parish, Beauharnais, keeping books for a lumber-firm. Ah, +monsieur, that is the way to deal with the matter--through Sebastian +Dolores, her father!" + +"What sort is he?" + +The other shook his head and did not answer. "Ah, not of the best? +Drinks?" + +M. Fille nodded. + +"Has a weak character?" + +Again M. Fille nodded. + +"Has no good reputation hereabouts?" + +The nod was repeated. "He has never been steady He goes here and there, +but always he comes back to get Jean Jacques' help. He and his daughter +are not close friends, and yet he likes to be near her. She can endure +him at least. He can command her interest. He is a stranger in a +strange land, and he drifts back to where she is always. But that is +all." + +"Then he is out of the question, and he would be always out of the +question except as a last resort; for sooner or later he would tell his +daughter, and challenge our George Masson too; and that is what you do +not wish, eh?" + +"Precisely so," remarked M. Fille, dropping back again into gloom. "To +be quite honest, monsieur, even though it gives me a task which I abhor, +I do not think that M. Dolores could do what is needed without mistakes +which could not be mended. At least I can--" He stopped. + +The Judge interposed at once, well pleased with the way things were going +for this "case." "Assuredly. You can as can no other, my Solon. The +secret of success in such things is a good heart, a right mind, a clear +intelligence and some astuteness, and you have it all. It is your task +and yours only." + +The little man's self-respect seemed restored. He preened himself +somewhat and bowed to the Judge. "I take your commands, monsieur, to +obey them as heaven gives me power so to do. Shall it be tomorrow?" + +The Judge reflected a moment, then said: "Tonight would be better, but--" + +"I can do it better to-morrow morning," interposed M. Fille, "for George +Masson has a meeting here at Vilray with the avocat Prideaux at ten +o'clock to sign a contract, and I can ask him to step into my office on a +little affair of business. He will not guess, and I shall be armed"--the +Judge frowned--"with the book of the law on such misdemeanours, and the +figures of the damages,"--the Judge smiled--"and I think perhaps I can +frighten him as he has never been frightened before." + +A courage and confidence had now taken possession of the Clerk in strange +contrast to his timidity and childlike manner of a few minutes before. +He was now as he appeared in court, clothed with an austere authority +which gave him a vicarious strength and dignity. The Judge had done his +work well, and he was of those folk in the world who are not content to +do even the smallest thing ill. + +Arm in arm they passed into the garden which fronted the vine-covered +house, where Maitre Fille lived alone with his sister, a tiny edition of +himself, who whispered and smiled her way through life. + +She smiled and whispered now in welcome to the Judge; and as she did so, +the three saw Jean Jacques, laughing, and cracking his whip, drive past +with his daughter beside him, chirruping to the horses; while, moody and +abstracted, his wife sat silent on the backseat of the red wagon. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JEAN JACQUES HAD HAD A GREAT DAY + +Jean Jacques was in great good humour as he drove away to the Manor +Cartier. The day, which was not yet aged, had been satisfactory from +every point of view. He had impressed the Court, he had got a chance to +pose in the witness-box; he had been able to repeat in evidence the +numerous businesses in which he was engaged; had referred to his +acquaintance with the Lieutenant-Governor and a Cardinal; to his Grand +Tour (this had been hard to do in the cross-examination to which he was +subjected, but he had done it); and had been able to say at the very +start in reply as to what was his occupation--"Moi je suis M'sieu' Jean +Jacques, philosophe." + +Also he had, during the day, collected a debt long since wiped off his +books; he had traded a poor horse for a good cow; he had bought all the +wheat of a Vilray farmer below market-price, because the poor fellow +needed ready money; he had issued an insurance policy; his wife and +daughter had conversed in the public streets with the great judge who was +the doyen of the provincial Bench; and his daughter had been kissed by +the same judge in the presence of at least a dozen people. He was, in +fact, very proud of his Carmen and his Carmencita, as he called the two +who sat in the red wagon sharing his glory--so proud that he did not +extol them to others; and he was quite sure they were both very proud of +him. The world saw what his prizes of life were, and there was no need +to praise or brag. Dignity and pride were both sustained by silence and +a wave of the hand, which in fact said to the world, "Look you, my +masters, they belong to Jean Jacques. Take heed." + +There his domestic scheme practically ended. He was so busy that he took +his joys by snatches, in moments of suspension of actual life, as it +were. His real life was in the eddy of his many interests, in the field +of his superficial culture, in the eyes of the world. The worst of him +was on the surface. He showed what other men hid, that was all. Their +vanity was concealed, he wore it in his cap. They put on a manner as +they put on their clothes, and wore it out in the world, or took it off +in their own homes-behind the door of life; but he was the same vain, +frank, cocksure fellow in his home as in the street. There was no +difference at all. He was vain, but he had no conceit; and therefore he +did not deceive, and was not tyrannous or dictatorial; in truth, if you +but estimated him at his own value, he was the least insistent man alive. +Many a debtor knew this; and, by asking Jean Jacques' advice, making an +appeal to his logic, as it were--and it was always worth listening to, +even when wrong or sadly obvious, because of the glow with which he +declared things this or that--found his situation immediately eased. +Many a hard-up countryman, casting about for a five-dollar bill, could +get it of Jean Jacques by telling him what agreeable thing some important +person had said about him; or by writing to a great newspaper in Montreal +a letter, saying that the next candidate for the provincial legislature +should be M. Jean Jacques Barbille, of St. Saviour's. This never failed +to draw a substantial "bill" from the wad which Jean Jacques always +carried in his pocket-loose, not tied up in a leather roll, as so many +lesser men freighted the burdens of their wealth. + +He had changed since the day he left Bordeaux on the Antoine; since he +had first caught the flash of interest in Carmen Dolores' eyes--an +interest roused from his likeness to a conspirator who had been shot for +his country's good. He was no stouter in body, for he was of the kind +that wear away the flesh by much doing and thinking; but there were +occasional streaks of grey in his bushy hair, and his eye roamed less +than it did once. In the days when he first brought Carmen home, his eye +was like a bead of brown light on a swivel. It flickered and flamed; it +saw here, saw there; it twinkled, and it pierced into life's mysteries; +and all the while it was a good eye. Its whites never showed, as it +were. As an animal, his eye showed a nature free from vice. In some +respects he was easy to live with, for he never found fault with what +was given him to eat, or the way the house was managed; and he never +interfered with the "kitchen people," or refused a dollar or ten dollars +to Carmen for finery. In fact, he was in a sense too lavish, for he used +at one time to bring her home presents of silks and clothes and toilet +things and stockings and hats, which were not in accord with her taste, +and only vexed her. Indeed, she resented wearing them, and could hardly +bring herself to thank him for them. At last, however, she induced him +to let her buy what she wanted with the presents of money which he might +give her. + +On the whole Carmen fared pretty well, for he would sometimes give her a +handful of bills from his pocket, bidding her take ten dollars, and she +would coolly take twenty, while he shrugged his shoulders and declared +she would be his ruin. He had never repented of marrying her, in spite +of the fact that she did not always keep house as his mother and +grandmother had kept it; that she was gravely remiss in going to mass; +and that she quarrelled with more than one of her neighbours, who had an +idea that Spain was an inferior country because it was south of France, +just as the habitants regarded the United States as a low and inferior +country because it was south of Quebec. You went north towards heaven +and south towards hell, in their view; but when they went so far as to +patronize or slander Carmen, she drove her verbal stilettos home without +a button; so that on one occasion there would have been a law-suit for +libel if the Old Cure had not intervened. To Jean Jacques' credit, +be it said, he took his wife's part on this occasion, though in his +heart he knew that she was in the wrong. + +He certainly was not always in the right himself. If he had been told +that he neglected his wife he would have been justly indignant. Also, it +never occurred to him that a woman did not always want to talk philosophy +or discuss the price of wheat or the cost of flour-barrels; and that for +a man to be stupidly and foolishly fond was dearer to a woman than +anything else. How should he know--yet he ought to have done so, if he +really was a philosopher--that a woman would want the cleverest man in +the world to be a boy and play the fool sometimes; that she would rather, +if she was a healthy woman, go to a circus than to a revelation of the +mysteries of the mind from an altar of culture, if her own beloved man +was with her. + +Carmen had been left too much alone, as M. Fille had said to Judge +Carcasson. Her spirits had moments of great dullness, when she was ready +to fling herself into the river--or the arms of the schoolmaster or the +farrier. When she first came to St. Saviour's, the necessity of adapting +herself to the new conditions, of keeping faith with herself, which she +had planned on the Antoine, and making a good wife to the man who was to +solve all her problems for her, prevailed. She did not at first miss so +much the life of excitement, of danger, of intrigue, of romance, of +colour and variety, which she had left behind in Spain. When her child +was born, she became passionately fond of it; her maternal spirit +smothered it. It gave the needed excitement in the routine of life at +St. Saviour's. + +Yet the interest was not permanent. There came a time when she resented +the fact that Jean Jacques made more of the child than he did of herself. +That was a bad day for all concerned, for dissimulation presently became +necessary, and the home of Jean Jacques was a home of mystery which no +philosophy could interpret. There had never been but the one child. She +was not less handsome than when Jean Jacques married her and brought her +home, though the bloom of maiden youthfulness was no longer there; and +she certainly was a cut far above the habitant women or even the others +of a higher social class, in a circle which had an area equal to a +principality in Europe. + +The old cure, M. Langon, had had much influence over her, for few could +resist the amazing personal influence which his rare pure soul secured +over the worst. It was a sad day to her when he went to his long home; +and inwardly she felt a greater loss than she had ever felt, save that +once when her Carvillho Gonzales went the way of the traitor. Memories +of her past life far behind in Madrid did not grow fainter; indeed, they +grew more distinct as the years went on. They seemed to vivify, as her +discontent and restlessness grew. + +Once, when there had come to St. Saviour's a middle-aged baron from Paris +who had heard the fishing was good at St. Saviour's, and talked to her of +Madrid and Barcelona, of Cordova and Toledo, as one who had seen and +known and (he declared) loved them; who painted for her in splashing +impressionist pictures the life that still eddied in the plazas and +dreamed in the patios, she had been almost carried off her feet with +longing; and she nearly gave that longing an expression which would have +brought a tragedy, while still her Zoe was only eight years old. But +M. Langon, the wise priest whose eyes saw and whose heart understood, +had intervened in time; and she never knew that the sudden disappearance +of the Baron, who still owed fifty dollars to Jean Jacques, was due to +the practical wisdom of a great soul which had worked out its own destiny +in a little back garden of the world. + +When this good priest was alive she felt she had a friend who was as +large of heart as he was just, and who would not scorn the fool according +to his folly, or chastise the erring after his deserts. In his greatness +of soul Pere Langon had shut his eyes to things that pained him more +than they shocked him, for he had seen life in its most various and +demoralized forms, and indeed had had his own temptations when he lived +in Belgium and France, before he had finally decided to become a priest. +He had protected Carmen with a quiet persistency since her first day in +the parish, and had had a saving influence over her. Pere Langon +reproved those who criticized her and even slandered her, for it was +evident to all that she would rather have men talk to her than women; +and any summer visitor who came to fish, gave her an attention never +given even to the youngest and brightest in the district; and the eyes +of the habitant lass can be very bright at twenty. Yet whatever Carmen's +coquetry and her sport with fire had been, her own emotions had never +been really involved till now. + +The new cure, M. Savry, would have said they were involved now because +she never came to confession, and indeed, since the Old Cure died, she +had seldom gone to mass. Yet when, with accumulated reproof on his +tongue, M. Savry did come to the Manor Cartier, he felt the inherent +supremacy of beauty, not the less commanding because it had not the +refinement of the duchess or the margravine. + +Once M. Savry ventured to do what the Old Cure would never have done--he +spoke to Jean Jacques concerning Carmen's neglect of mass and confession, +and he received a rebuff which was almost au seigneur; for in Jean +Jacques' eyes he was now the figure in St. Saviour's; and this was an +occasion when he could assert his position as premier of the secular +world outside the walls of the parish church. He did it in good style +for a man who had had no particular training in the social arts. + +This is how he did it and what he said: + +"There have been times when I myself have thought it would be a good +thing to have a rest from the duties of a Catholic, m'sieu' le cure," he +remarked to M. Savry, when the latter had ended his criticism. He said +it with an air of conflict, and with full intent to make his supremacy +complete. + +"No Catholic should speak like that," returned the shocked priest. + +"No priest should speak to me as you have done," rejoined Jean Jacques. +"What do you know of the reasons for the abstention of madame? The soul +must enjoy rest as well as the body, and madame has a--mind which can +judge for itself. I have a body that is always going, and it gets too +little rest, and that keeps my soul in a flutter too. It must be getting +to mass and getting to confession, and saying aves and doing penance, +it is such a busy little soul of mine; but we are not all alike, and +madame's body goes in a more stately way. I am like a comet, she is +like the sun steady, steady, round and round, with plenty of sleep and +the comfortable darkness. Sometimes madame goes hard; so does the sun +in summer-shines, shines, shines like a furnace. Madame's body goes like +that--at the dairy, in the garden, with the loom, among the fowls, +growing her strawberries, keeping the women at the beating of the flax; +and then again it is all still and idle like the sun on a cloudy day; +and it rests. So it is with the human soul--I am a philosopher--I think +the soul goes hard the same as the body, churning, churning away in the +heat of the sun; and then it gets quiet and goes to sleep in the cloudy +day, when the body is sick of its bouncing, and it has a rest--the soul +has a rest, which is good for it, m'sieu'. I have worked it all out so. +Besides, the soul of madame is her own. I have not made any claim upon +it, and I will not expect you to do more, m'sieu' le cure." + +"It is my duty to speak," protested the good priest. "Her soul is God's, +and I am God's vicar--" + +Jean Jacques waved a hand. "T'sh, you are not the Pope. You are not +even an abbe. You were only a deacon a few years ago. You did not know +how to hold a baby for the christening when you came to St. Saviour's +first. For the mass, you have some right to speak; it is your duty +perhaps; but the confession, that is another thing; that is the will of +every soul to do or not to do. What do you know of a woman's soul-well, +perhaps, you know what they have told you; but madame's soul--" + +"Madame has never been to confession to me," interjected M. Savry +indignantly. Jean Jacques chuckled. He had his New Cure now for sure. + +"Confession is for those who have sinned. Is it that you say one must go +to confession, and in order to go to confession it is needful to sin?" + +M. Savry shivered with pious indignation. He had a sudden desire to rend +this philosophic Catholic--to put him under the thumb-screw for the glory +of the Lord, and to justify the Church; but the little Catholic miller- +magnate gave freely to St. Saviour's; he was popular; he had a position; +he was good to the poor; and every Christmas-time he sent a half-dozen +bags of flour to the presbytery! + +All Pere Savry ventured to say in reply was: "Upon your head be it, +M. Jean Jacques. I have done my duty. I shall hope to see madame at +mass next Sunday." + +Jean Jacques had chuckled over that episode, for he had conquered; +he had shown M. Savry that he was master in his own household and outside +it. That much his philosophy had done for him. No other man in the +parish would have dared to speak to the Cure like that. He had never +scolded Carmen when she had not gone to church. Besides, there was +Carmen's little daughter always at his side at mass; and Carmen always +insisted on Zoe going with him, and even seemed anxious for them to be +off at the first sound of the bells of St. Saviour's. Their souls were +busy, hers wanted rest; that was clear. He was glad he had worked it out +so cleverly to the Cure--and to his own mind. His philosophy surely had +vindicated itself. + +But Jean Jacques was far from thinking of these things as he drove back +from Vilray and from his episode in Court to the Manor Cartier. He was +indeed just praising himself, his wife, his child, and everything that +belonged to him. He was planning, planning, as he talked, the new things +to do--the cheese-factory, the purchase of a steam-plough and a steam- +thresher which he could hire out to his neighbours. Only once during the +drive did he turn round to Carmen, and then it was to ask her if she had +seen her father of late. + +"Not for ten months," was her reply. "Why do you ask?" + +"Wouldn't he like to be nearer you and Zoe? It's twelve miles to +Beauharnais," he replied. + +"Are you thinking of offering him another place at the Manor?" she asked +sharply. + +"Well, there is the new cheese-factory--not to manage, but to keep the +books! He's doing them all right for the lumber-firm. I hear that he--" + +"I don't want it. No good comes from relatives working together. Look +at the Latouche farm where your cousin makes his mess. My father is well +enough where he is." + +"But you'd like to see him oftener--I was only thinking of that," said +Jean Jacques in a mollifying voice. It was the kind of thing in which he +showed at once the weakness and the kindness of his nature. He was in +fact not a philosopher, but a sentimentalist. + +"If mother doesn't think it's sensible, why do it, father?" asked Zoe +anxiously, looking up into her father's face. + +She had seen the look in her mother's eyes, and also she had no love for +her grandfather. Her instinct had at one time wavered regarding him; but +she had seen an incident with a vanished female cook, and though she had +not understood, a prejudice had been created in her mind. She was always +contrasting him with M. Fille, who, to her mind, was what a grandfather +ought to be. + +"I won't have him beholden to you," said Carmen, almost passionately. + +"He is of my family," said Jean Jacques firmly and chivalrously. "There +is no question of being beholden." + +"Let well enough alone," was the gloomy reply. With a sigh, Jean Jacques +turned back to the study of the road before him, to gossip with Zoe, and +to keep on planning subconsciously the new things he must do. + +Carmen sighed too, or rather she gave a gasp of agitation and annoyance. +Her father? She had lost whatever illusion once existed regarding him. +For years he had clung to her--to her pocket. He was given to drinking +in past years, and he still had his sprees. Like the rest of the world, +she had not in earlier years seen the furtiveness in his handsome face; +but at last, as his natural viciousness became stereotyped, and bad +habits matured and emphasized, she saw beneath his mask of low-class +comeliness. When at last she had found it necessary to dismiss the best +cook she ever had, because of him, they saw little of each other. This +was coincident with his failure at the ash-factory, where he mismanaged +and even robbed Jean Jacques right and left; and she had firmly insisted +on Jean Jacques evicting him, on the ground that it was not Sebastian +Dolores' bent to manage a business. + +This little episode, as they drove home from Vilray, had an unreasonable +effect upon her. + +It was like the touch of a finger which launches a boat balancing in the +ways onto the deep. It tossed her on a sea of agitation. She was swept +away on a flood of morbid reflection. + +Her husband and her daughter, laughing and talking in the front seat of +the red wagon, seemed quite oblivious of her, and if ever there was a +time when their influence was needed it was now. George Masson was +coming over late this afternoon to inspect the work he had been doing; +and she was trembling with an agitation which, however, did not show upon +the surface. She had not seen him for two days--since the day after the +Clerk of the Court had discovered her in the arms of a man who was not +her husband; but he was coming this evening, and he was coming to-morrow +for the last time; for the repair work on the flume of the dam would all +be finished then. + +But would the work he had been doing all be finished then? As she +thought of that incident of three days ago and of its repetition on the +following day, she remembered what he had said to her as she snatched +herself almost violently from his arms, in a sudden access of remorse. +He had said that it had to be, that there was no escape now; and at his +words she had felt every pulse in her body throbbing, every vein +expanding with a hot life which thrilled and tortured her. Life had been +so meagre and so dull, and the man who had worshipped her on the Antoine +now worshipped himself only, and also Zoe, the child, maybe; or so she +thought; while the man who had once possessed her whole mind and whole +heart, and never her body, back there in Spain, he, Carvillho Gonzales, +would have loved her to the end, in scenes where life had colour and +passion and danger and delightful movement. + +She was one of those happy mortals who believe that the dead and gone +lover was perfect, and that in losing him she was losing all that life +had in store; but the bare, hard truth was that her Gonzales could have +been true neither to her nor to any woman in the world for longer than +one lingering year, perhaps one lunar month. It did not console her-- +she did not think of it-that the little man on the seat of the red wagon, +chirruping with their daughter, had been, would always be, true to her. +Of what good was fidelity if he that was faithful desired no longer as +he once did? + +A keen observer would have seen in the glowing, unrestful look, in the +hot cheek, in the interlacing fingers, that a contest was going on in the +woman's soul, as she drove homeward with all that was her own in the +world. The laughter of her husband and child grated painfully on her +ears. Why should they be mirthful while her life was being swept by a +storm of doubt, temptation, and dark passion? Why was it? + +Yet she smiled at Jean Jacques when he lifted her down from the red wagon +at the door of the Manor Cartier, even though he lifted his daughter down +first. + +Did she smile at Jean Jacques because, as they came toward the Manor, +she saw George Masson in the distance by the flume, and in that moment +decided to keep her promise and meet him at a secluded point on the +river-bank at sunset after supper? + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JEAN JACQUES AWAKES FROM SLEEP + +The pensiveness of a summer evening on the Beau Cheval was like a veil +hung over all the world. While yet the sun was shining, there was the +tremor of life in the sadness; but when the last glint of amethyst and +gold died away behind Mont Violet, and the melancholy swish of the river +against the osiered banks rose out of the windless dusk, all the region +around Manor Cartier, with its cypresses, its firs, its beeches, and its +elms, became gently triste. Even the weather-vane on the Manor--the gold +Cock of Beaugard, as it was called--did not move; and the stamping of a +horse in the stable was like the thunderous knock of a traveller from +Beyond. The white mill and the grey manor stood out with ghostly +vividness in the light of the rising moon. Yet there were times +innumerable when they looked like cool retreats for those who wanted +rest; when, in the summer solstice, they offered the pleasant peace of +the happy fireside. How often had Jean Jacques stood off from it all of +a summer night and said to himself: "Look at that, my Jean Jacques. It +is all yours, Manor and mills and farms and factory--all." + +"Growing, growing, fattening, while I drone in my feather bed," he had +as often said, with the delighted observation of the philosopher. "And +me but a young man yet--but a mere boy," he would add. "I have piled it +up--I have piled it up, and it keeps on growing, first one thing and then +another." + +Could such a man be unhappy? Finding within himself his satisfaction, +his fountain of appeasement, why should not his days be days of +pleasantness and peace? So it appeared to him during that summer, just +passed, when he had surveyed the World and his world within the World, +and it seemed to his innocent mind that he himself had made it all. +There he was, not far beyond forty, and eligible to become a member +of Parliament, or even a count of the Holy Roman Empire! He had thought +of both these honours, but there was so much to occupy him--he never had +a moment to himself, except at night; and then there was planning and +accounting to do, his foremen to see, or some knotty thing to +disentangle. But when the big clock in the Manor struck ten, and he took +out his great antique silver watch, to see if the two marched to the +second, he would go to the door, look out into the night, say, "All's +well, thank the good God," and would go to bed, very often forgetting to +kiss Carmen, and even forgetting his darling little Zoe. + +After all, a mind has to be very big and to have very many tentacles to +hold so many things all at once, and also to remember to do the right +thing at the right moment every time. He would even forget to ask Carmen +to play on the guitar, which in the first days of their married life was +the recreation of every evening. Seldom with the later years had he +asked her to sing, because he was so busy; and somehow his ear had not +that keenness of sound once belonging to it. There was a time when he +himself was wont to sing, when he taught his little Zoe the tunes of the +Chansons Canadiennes; but even that had dropped away, except at rare +intervals, when he would sing Le Petit Roger Bontemps, with Petite Fleur +de Bois, and a dozen others; but most he would sing--indeed there was +never a sing-song in the Manor Cartier but he would burst forth with A la +Claire Fontaine and its haunting refrain: + + "Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, + Jamais je ne t'oublierai." + +But this very summer, when he had sung it on the birthday of the little +Zoe, his voice had seemed out of tune. At first he had thought that +Carmen was playing his accompaniment badly on the guitar, but she had +sharply protested against that, and had appealed to M. Fille, who was +present at the pretty festivity. He had told the truth, as a Clerk of +the Court should. He said that Jean Jacques' voice was not as he had so +often heard it; but he would also frankly admit that he did not think +madame played the song as he had heard her play it aforetime, and that +covered indeed twelve years or more--in fact, since the birth of the +renowned Zoe. + +M. Fille had wondered much that night of June at the listless manner and +listless playing of Carmen Barbille. For a woman of such spirit and fire +it would seem as though she must be in ill-health to play like that. Yet +when he looked at her he saw only the comeliness of a woman whom the life +of the haut habitant had not destroyed or, indeed, dimmed. Her skin was +smooth, she had no wrinkles, and her neck was a pillar of softly moulded +white flesh, around which a man might well string unset jewels, if he had +them; for the tint and purity of her skin would be a better setting than +platinum or fine gold. But the Clerk of the Court was really +unsophisticated, or he would have seen that Carmen played the guitar +badly because she was not interested in Jean Jacques' singing. He would +have known that she had come to that stage in her married life when the +tenure is pitifully insecure. He would have seen that the crisis was +near. If he had had any real observation he would have noticed that +Carmen's eyes at once kindled, and that the guitar became a different +thing, when M. Colombin, the young schoolmaster, one of the guests, +caught up the refrain of A la Claire Fontaine, and in a soft tenor voice +sang it with Jean Jacques to the end, and then sang it again with Zoe. +Then Carmen's dark eyes deepened with the gathering light in them, her +body seemed to vibrate and thrill with emotion; and when M. Colombin and +Zoe ceased, with her eyes fixed on the distance, and as though +unconscious of them all, she began to sing a song of Cadiz which she had +not sung since boarding the Antoine at Bordeaux. Her mind had, suddenly +flown back out of her dark discontent to the days when all life was +before her, and, with her Gonzales, she had moved in an atmosphere of +romance, adventure and passion. + +In a second she was transformed from the wife of the brown money-master +to the girl she was when she came to St. Saviour's from the plaza, where +her Carvillho Gonzales was shot, with love behind her and memory blazoned +in the red of martyrdom. She sang now as she had not sung for some +years. Her guitar seemed to leap into life, her face shone with the hot +passion of memory, her voice rang with the pain of a disappointed life: + + "Granada, Granada, thy gardens are gay, + And bright are thy stars, the high stars above; + But as flowers that fade and are gray, + But as dusk at the end of the day, + Are ye to the light in the eyes of my love + In the eyes, in the soul, of my love. + + "Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see + My love in thy gardens, there waiting for me? + + "Beloved, beloved, have pity, and make + Not the sun shut its eyes, its hot, envious eyes, + And the world in the darkness of night + Be debtor to thee for its light. + Turn thy face, turn thy face from the skies + To the love, to the pain in my eyes. + + "Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see + My love in thy gardens, there waiting for me!" + +From that night forward she had been restless and petulant and like one +watching and waiting. It seemed to her that she must fly from the life +which was choking her. It was all so petty and so small. People went +about sneaking into other people's homes like detectives; they turned +yellow and grew scrofulous from too much salt pork, green tea, native +tobacco, and the heat of feather beds. The making of a rag carpet was an +event, the birth of a baby every year till the woman was forty-five was a +commonplace; but the exit of a youth to a seminary to become a priest, or +the entrance to the novitiate of a young girl, were matters as important +as a battle to Napoleon the Great. + +How had she gone through it all so long, she asked herself? The presence +of Jean Jacques had become almost unbearable when, the day done, he +retired to the feather bed which she loathed, though he would have looked +upon discarding it like the abdication of his social position. A feather +bed was a sign of social position; it was as much the dais to his honour +as is the woolsack to the Lord Chancellor in the House of Lords. + +She was waiting for something. There was a restless, vagrant spirit +alive in her now. She had been so long inactive, tied by the leg, +with wings clipped; now her mind roamed into pleasant places of the +imagination where life had freedom, where she could renew the impulses +of youth. A true philosopher-a man of the world-would have known for +what she was waiting with that vague, disordered expectancy and yearning; +but there was no man of the world to watch and guide her this fateful +summer, when things began to go irretrievably wrong. + +Then George Masson came. He was a man of the world in his way; he saw +and knew better than the philosopher of the Manor Cartier. He grasped +the situation with the mind of an artist in his own sphere, and with the +knowledge got by experience. Thus there had been the thing which the +Clerk of the Court saw from Mont Violet behind the Manor; and so it was +that as Jean Jacques helped Carmen down from the red wagon on their +return from Vilray, she gave him a smile which was meant to deceive; for +though given to him it was really given to another man in her mind's eye. +At sunset she gave it again to George Masson on the river-bank, only +warmer and brighter still, with eyes that were burning, with hands that +trembled, and with an agitated bosom more delicately ample than it was on +the day the Antoine was wrecked. + +Neither of these two adventurers into a wild world of feeling noticed +that a man was sitting on a little knoll under a tree, not far away from +their meeting-place, busy with pencil and paper. + +It was Jean Jacques, who had also come to the river-bank to work out a +business problem which must be settled on the morrow. He had stolen out +immediately after supper from neighbours who wished to see him, and had +come here by a roundabout way, because he wished to be alone. + +George Masson and Carmen were together for a few moments only, but Jean +Jacques heard his wife say, "Yes, to-morrow--for sure," and then he saw +her kiss the master-carpenter--kiss him twice, thrice. After which they +vanished, she in one direction, and the invader and marauder in another. + +If either of these two had seen the face of the man with a pencil +and paper under the spreading beechtree, they would not have been so +impatient for tomorrow, and Carmen would not have said "for sure." + +Jean Jacques was awake at last, man as well as philosopher. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GATE IN THE WALL + +Jean Jacques was not without originality of a kind, and not without +initiative; but there were also the elements of the very old Adam in him, +and the strain of the obvious. If he had been a real genius, rather than +a mere lively variation of the commonplace--a chicken that could never +burst its shell, a bird which could not quite break into song--he might +have made his biographer guess hard and futilely, as to what he would do +after having seen his wife's arms around the neck of another man than +himself--a man little more than a manual labourer, while he, Jean Jacques +Barbille, had come of the people of the Old Regime. As it was, this +magnate of St. Saviour's, who yesterday posed so sympathetically and +effectively in the Court at Vilray as a figure of note, did the quite +obvious thing: he determined to kill the master-carpenter from Laplatte. + +There was no genius in that. When, from under the spreading beech-tree, +Jean Jacques saw his wife footing it back to her house with a light, +wayward step; when he watched the master-carpenter vault over a stone +fence five feet high with a smile of triumph mingled with doubt on his +face, he was too stunned at first to move or speak. If a sledge-hammer +strikes you on the skull, though your skull is of such a hardness that it +does not break, still the shock numbs activity for awhile, at any rate. +The sledge-hammer had descended on Jean Jacques' head, and also had +struck him between the eyes; and it is in the credit balance of his +ledger of life, that he refrained from useless outcry at the moment. +Such a stroke kills some men, either at once, or by lengthened torture; +others it sends mad, so that they make a clamour which draws the +attention of the astonished and not sympathetic world; but it only +paralysed Jean Jacques. For a time he sat fascinated by the ferocity +of the event, his eyes following the hurrying wife and the jaunty, +swaggering master-carpenter with a strange, animal-like dismay and +apprehension. They remained fixed with a kind of blank horror and +distraction on the landscape for some time after both had disappeared. + +At last, however, he seemed to recover his senses, and to come back from +the place where he had been struck by the hammer of treachery. He seemed +to realize again that he was still a part of the common world, not a +human being swung through the universe on his heart-strings by a Gorgon. + +The paper and pencil in his hand brought him back from the far Gehenna +where he had been, to the world again--how stony and stormy a world it +was, with the air gone as heavy as lead, with his feet so loaded down +with chains that he could not stir! He had had great joy of this his +world; he had found it a place where every day were problems to be solved +by an astute mind, problems which gave way before the master-thinker. +There was of course unhappiness in his world. There was death, there was +accident occasionally--had his own people not gone down under the scythe +of time? But in going they had left behind in real estate and other +things good compensation for their loss. There was occasional suffering +and poverty and trouble in his little kingdom; but a cord of wood here, a +barrel of flour there, a side of beef elsewhere, a little debt remitted, +a bag of dried apples, or an Indian blanket--these he gave, and had great +pleasure in giving; and so the world was not a place where men should +hang their heads, but a place where the busy man got more than the worth +of his money. + +It had never occurred to him that he was ever translating the world into +terms of himself, that he went on his way saying in effect, "I am coming. +I am Jean Jacques Barbille. You have heard of me. You know me. Wave a +hand to me, duck your head to me, crack the whip or nod when I pass. I +am M'sieu' Jean Jacques, philosopher." + +And all the while he had only been vaguely, not really, conscious of his +wife and child. He did not know that he had only made of his wife an +incident in his life, in spite of the fact that he thought he loved her; +that he had been proud of her splendid personality; and that, with +passionate chivalry, he had resented any criticism of her. + +He thought still, as he did on the Antoine, that Carmen's figure had the +lines of the Venus of Milo, that her head would have been a model either +for a Madonna, or for Joan of Arc, or the famous Isabella of Aragon. +Having visited the Louvre and the Luxembourg all in one day, he felt he +was entitled to make such comparisons, and that in making them he was on +sure ground. He had loved to kiss Carmen in the neck, it was so full and +soft and round; and when she went about the garden with her dress +shortened, and he saw her ankles, even after he had been married thirteen +years, and she was thirty-four, he still admired, he still thought that +the world was a good place when it produced such a woman. And even when +she had lashed him with her tongue, as she did sometimes, he still +laughed--after the smart was over--because he liked spirit. He would +never have a horse that had not some blood, and he had never driven a +sluggard in his life more than once. But wife and child and world, and +all that therein was, existed largely because they were necessary to Jean +Jacques. + +That is the way it had been; and it was as though the firmament had been +rolled up before his eyes, exposing the everlasting mysteries, when he +saw his wife in the arms of the master-carpenter. It was like some +frightening dream. + +The paper and pencil waked him to reality. He looked towards his house, +he looked the way George Masson had gone, and he knew that what he had +seen was real life and not a dream. The paper fell from his hand. He +did not pick it up. Its fall represented the tumbling walls of life, was +the earthquake which shook his world into chaos. He ground the sheet +into the gravel with his heel. There would be no cheese-factory built at +St. Saviour's for many a year to come. The man of initiative, the man of +the hundred irons would not have the hundred and one, or keep the hundred +hot any more; because he would be so busy with the iron which had entered +into his soul. + +When the paper had been made one with the earth, a problem buried for +ever, Jean Jacques pulled himself up to his full height, as though facing +a great thing which he must do. + +"Well, of course!" he said firmly. + +That was what his honour, Judge Carcasson, had said a few hours before, +when the little Clerk of the Court had remarked an obvious thing about +the case of Jean Jacques. + +And Jean Jacques said only the obvious thing when he made up his mind to +do the obvious thing--to kill George Masson, the master-carpenter. + +This was evidence that he was no genius. Anybody could think of killing +a man who had injured him, as the master-carpenter had done Jean Jacques. +It is the solution of the problem of the Patagonian. It is old as +Rameses. + +Yet in his own way Jean Jacques did what he felt he had to do. The thing +he was going to do was hopelessly obvious, but the doing of it was Jean +Jacques' own; and it was not obvious; and that perhaps was genius after +all. There are certain inevitable things to do, and for all men to do; +and they have been doing them from the beginning of time; but the way it +is done--is not that genius? There is no new story in the world; all the +things that happen have happened for untold centuries; but the man who +tells the story in a new way, that is genius, so the great men say. If, +then, Jean Jacques did the thing he had to do with a turn of his own, he +would justify to some degree the opinion he had formed of himself. + +As he walked back to his desecrated home he set himself to think. How +should it be done? There was the rifle with which he had killed deer in +the woods beyond the Saguenay and bear beyond the Chicoutimi. That was +simple--and it was obvious; and it could be done at once. He could soon +overtake the man who had spoiled the world for him. + +Yet he was a Norman, and the Norman thinks before he acts. He is the +soul of caution; he wants to get the best he can out of his bargain. He +will throw nothing away that is to his advantage. There should be other +ways than the gun with which to take a man's life--ways which might give +a Norman a chance to sacrifice only one life; to secure punishment where +it was due, but also escape from punishment for doing the obvious thing. + +Poison? That was too stupid even to think of once. A pitch-fork and a +dung-heap? That had its merits; but again there was the risk of more +than one life. + +All the way to his house, Jean Jacques, with something of the rage of +passion and the glaze of horror gone from his eyes, and his face not now +so ghastly, still brooded over how, after he had had his say, he was to +put George Masson out of the world. But it did not come at once. All +makers of life-stories find their difficulty at times. Tirelessly they +grope along a wall, day in, day out, and then suddenly a great gate +swings open, as though to the touch of a spring, and the whole way is +clear to the goal. + +Jean Jacques went on thinking in a strange, new, intense abstraction. +His restless eyes were steadier than they had ever been; his wife noticed +that as he entered the house after the Revelation. She noticed also his +paleness and his abstraction. For an instant she was frightened; but no, +Jean Jacques could not know anything. Yet--yet he had come from the +direction of the river! + +"What is it, Jean Jacques?" she asked. "Aren't you well?" + +He put his hand to his head, but did not look her in the eyes. His +gesture helped him to avoid that. "I have a head--la, such a head! +I have been thinking, thinking-it is my hobby. I have been planning +the cheese-factory, and all at once it comes on-the ache in my head. +I will go to bed. Yes, I will go at once." Suddenly he turned at the +door leading to the bedroom. "The little Zoe--is she well?" + +"Of course. Why should she not be well? She has gone to the top of the +hill. Of course, she's well, Jean Jacques." + +"Good-good!" he remarked. Somehow it seemed strange to him that Zoe +should be well. Was there not a terrible sickness in his house, and had +not that woman, his wife, her mother, brought the infection? Was he +himself not stricken by it? + +Carmen was calm enough again. "Go to bed, Jean Jacques," she said, "and +I'll bring you a sleeping posset. I know those headaches. You had one +when the ash-factory was burned." + +He nodded without looking at her, and closed the door behind him. + +When she came to the bedroom a half-hour later, his face was turned to +the wall. She spoke, but he did not answer. She thought he was asleep. +He was not asleep. He was only thinking how to do the thing which was +not obvious, which was also safe for himself. That should be his +triumph, if he could but achieve it. + +When she came to bed he did not stir, and he did not answer her when she +spoke. + +"The poor Jean Jacques!" he heard her say, and if there had not been +on him the same courage that possessed him the night when the Antoine +was wrecked, he would have sobbed. + +He did not stir. He kept thinking; and all the time her words, "The poor +Jean Jacques!" kept weaving themselves through his vague designs. Why +had she said that--she who had deceived, betrayed him? Had he then seen +what he had seen? + +She did not sleep for a long time, and when she did it was uneasily. But +the bed was an immense one, and she was not near him. There was no sleep +for him--not even for an hour. Once, in exhaustion, he almost rolled +over into the poppies of unconsciousness; but he came back with a start +and a groan to sentient life again, and kept feeling, feeling along the +wall of purpose for a masterly way to kill. + +At dawn it came, suddenly spreading out before him like a picture. He +saw himself standing at the head of the flume out there by the Mill +Cartier with his hand on the lever. Below him in the empty flume was the +master-carpenter giving a last inspection to the repairs. Beyond the +master-carpenter--far beyond--was the great mill-wheel! Behind himself, +Jean Jacques, was the river held back by the dam; and if the lever was +opened,--the river would sweep through the raised gates down the flume to +the millwheel--with the man. And then the wheel would turn and turn, and +the man would be in the wheel. + +It was not obvious; it was original; and it looked safe for Jean Jacques. +How easily could such an "accident" occur! + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +"MOI-JE SUIS PHILOSOPHE" + +The air was like a mellow wine, and the light on the landscape was full +of wistfulness. It was a thing so exquisite that a man of sentiment like +Jean Jacques in his younger days would have wept to see. And the feeling +was as palpable as the seeing; as in the early spring the new life which +is being born in the year, produces a febrile kind of sorrow in the mind. +But the glow of Indian summer, that compromise, that after-thought of +real summer, which brings her back for another good-bye ere she vanishes +for ever--its sadness is of a different kind. Its longing has a sharper +edge; there stir in it the pangs of discontent; and the mind and body +yearn for solace. It is a dangerous time, even more dangerous than +spring for those who have passed the days of youth. + +It had proved dangerous to Carmen Barbille. The melancholy of the +gorgeously tinted trees, the flights of the birds to the south, the smell +of the fallow field, the wind with the touch of the coming rains--these +had given to a growing discontent with her monotonous life the desire +born of self-pity. In spite of all she could do she was turning to the +life she had left behind in Cadiz long ago. + +It seemed to her that Jean Jacques had ceased to care for the charms +which once he had so proudly proclaimed. There was in her the strain of +the religion of Epicurus. She desired always that her visible corporeal +self should be admired and desired, that men should say, "What a splendid +creature!" It was in her veins, an undefined philosophy of life; and she +had ever measured the love of Jean Jacques by his caresses. She had no +other vital standard. This she could measure, she could grasp it and +say, "Here I have a hold; it is so much harvested." But if some one had +written her a poem a thousand verses long, she would have said, "Yes, all +very fine, but let me see what it means; let me feel that it is so." + +She had an inherent love of luxury and pleasure, which was far more +active in her now than when she married Jean Jacques. For a Spanish +woman she had matured late; and that was because, in her youth, she had +been active and athletic, unlike most Spanish girls; and the microbes of +a sensuous life, or what might have become a sensual life, had not good +chance to breed. + +It all came, however, in the dullness of the winter days and nights, in +the time of deep snows, when they could go abroad but very little. Then +her body and her mind seemed to long for the indolent sun-spaces of +Spain. The artificial heat of the big stoves in the rooms with the low +ceilings only irritated her, and she felt herself growing more ample from +lassitude of the flesh. This particular autumn it seemed to her that she +could not get through another winter without something going wrong, +without a crisis of some sort. She felt the need of excitement, of +change. She had the desire for pleasures undefined. + +Then George Masson came, and the undefined took form almost at once. +It was no case of the hunter pursuing his prey with all the craft and +subtlety of his trade. She had answered his look with spontaneity, due +to the fact that she had been surprised into the candour of her feelings +by the appearance of one who had the boldness of a brigand, the health of +a Hercules, and the intelligence of a primitive Jesuit. He had not +hesitated; he had yielded himself to the sumptuous attraction, and the +fire in his eyes was only the window of the furnace within him. He had +gone headlong to the conquest, and by sheer force of temperament and +weight of passion he had swept her off her feet. + +He had now come to the last day of his duty at the Mill Cartier, when all +he had to do was to inspect the work done, give assurance and guarantee +that it was all right, and receive his cheque from Jean Jacques. He had +come early, because he had been unable to sleep well, and also he had +much to do before keeping his tryst with Carmen Barbille in the +afternoon. + +As he passed the Manor Cartier this fateful morning, he saw her at the +window, and he waved his hat at her with a cheery salutation which she +did not hear. He knew that she did not hear or see. "My beauty !" he +said aloud. "My splendid girl, my charmer of Cadiz! My wonder of the +Alhambra, my Moorish maid! My bird of freedom--hand of Charlemagne, your +lips are sweet, yes, sweet as one-and-twenty!" + +His lips grew redder at the thought of the kisses he had taken, his +cheek flushed with the thought of those he meant to take; and he laughed +greedily as he lowered himself into the flume by a ladder, just under the +lever that opened the gates, to begin his inspection. + +It was not a perfunctory inspection, for he was a good craftsman, and he +had pride in what his workmen did. + +"Ah!" + +It was a sound of dumbfounded amazement, a hoarse cry of horror which was +not in tune with the beauty of the morning. + +"Ah!" + +It came from his throat like the groan of a trapped and wounded lion. +George Masson had almost finished his inspection, when he heard a noise +behind him. He turned and looked back. There stood Jean Jacques with +his hand on the lever. The noise he had heard was the fourteen-foot +ladder being dropped, after Jean Jacques had drawn it up softly out of +the flume. + +"Ah! Nom de Dieu!" George Masson exclaimed again in helpless fury and +with horror in his eyes. + +By instinct he understood that Carmen's husband knew all. He realized +what Jean Jacques meant to do. He knew that the lever locking the mill- +wheel had been opened, and that Jean Jacques had his hand on the lever +which raised the gate of the flume. + +By instinct--for there was no time for thought--he did the only thing +which could help him, he made a swift gesture to Jean Jacques, a gesture +that bade him wait. Time was his only friend in this--one minute, two +minutes, three minutes, anything. For if the gates were opened, he would +be swept into the millwheel, and there would be the end--the everlasting +end. + +"Wait!" he called out after his gesture. "One second!" + +He ran forward till he was about thirty feet from Jean Jacques standing +there above him, with the set face and the dark malicious, half-insane +eyes. Even in his fear and ghastly anxiety, the subconscious mind of +George Masson was saying, "He looks like the Baron of Beaugard--like the +Baron of Beaugard that killed the man who abused his wife." + +It was so. Great-great-grand-nephew of the Baron of Beaugard as he was, +Jean Jacques looked like the portrait of him which hung in the Manor +Cartier. "Wait--but wait one minute!" exclaimed George Masson; and now, +all at once, he had grown cool and determined, and his brain was at work +again with an activity and a clearness it had never known. He had gained +one minute of time, he might be able to gain more. In any case, no one +could save him except himself. There was Jean Jacques with his hand on +the lever--one turn and the thing was done for ever. If a rescuer was +even within one foot of Jean Jacques, the deed could still be done. It +was so much easier opening than shutting the gates of the flume! + +"Why should I wait, devil and rogue?" The words came from Jean Jacques' +lips with a snarl. "I am going to kill you. It will do you no good to +whine--cochon!" + +To call a man a pig is the worst insult which could be offered by one man +to another in the parish of St. Saviour's. To be called a pig as you are +going to die, is an offensive business indeed. + +"I know you are going to kill me--that you can kill me, and I can do +nothing," was the master-carpenter's reply. "There it is--a turn of the +lever, and I am done. Bien sur, I know how easy! I do not want to die, +but I will not squeal even if I am a pig. One can only die once. And +once is enough . . . No, don't--not yet ! Give me a minute till I +tell you something; then you can open the gates. You will have a long +time to live--yes, yes, you are the kind that live long. Well, a minute +or two is not much to ask. If you want to murder, you will open the +gates at once; but if it is punishment, if you are an executioner, you +will give me time to pray." + +Jean Jacques did not soften. His voice was harsh and grim. "Well, get +on with your praying, but don't talk. You are going to die," he added, +his hands gripping the lever tighter. + +The master-carpenter had had the true inspiration in his hour of danger. +He had touched his appeal with logic, he had offered an argument. Jean +Jacques was a logician, a philosopher! That point made about the +difference between a murder and an execution was a good one. Beside it +was an acknowledgment, by inference, from his victim, that he was getting +what he deserved. + +"Pray quick and have it over, pig of an adulterer!" added Jean Jacques. + +The master-carpenter raised a protesting hand. "There you are +mistaken; but it is no matter. At the end of to-day I would have been +an adulterer, if you hadn't found out. I don't complain of the word. +But see, as a philosopher"--Jean Jacques jerked a haughty assent--"as a +philosopher you will want to know how and why it is. Carmen will never +tell you--a woman never tells the truth about such things, because she +does not know how. She does not know the truth ever, exactly, about +anything. It is because she is a woman. But I would like to tell you +the exact truth; and I can, because I am a man. For what she did you +are as much to blame as she . . . no, no--not yet!" + +Jean Jacques' hand had spasmodically tightened on the lever as though he +would wrench the gates open, and a snarl came from his lips. + +"Figure de Christ, but it is true, as true as death! Listen, M'sieu' +Jean Jacques. You are going to kill me, but listen so that you will know +how to speak to her afterwards, understanding what I said as I died." + +"Get on--quick!" growled Jean Jacques with white wrinkled lips and the +sun in his agonized eyes. George Masson continued his pleading. "You +were always a man of mind"--Jean Jacques' fierce agitation visibly +subsided, and a surly sort of vanity crept into his face--"and you +married a girl who cared more for what you did than what you thought-- +that is sure, for I know women. I am not married, and I have had much +to do with many of them. I will tell you the truth. I left the West +because of a woman--of two women. I had a good business, but I could +not keep out of trouble with women. They made it too easy for me." + +"Peacock-pig!" exclaimed Jean Jacques with an ugly sneer. + +"Let a man when he is dying tell all the truth, to ease his mind," said +the master-carpenter with a machiavellian pretence and cunning. "It was +vanity, it was, as you say; it was the peacock in me made me be the +friend of many women and not the husband of one. I came down here to +Quebec from the Far West to get away from consequences. It was +expensive. I had to sacrifice. Well, here I am in trouble again--my +last trouble, and with the wife of a man that I respect and admire, not +enough to keep my hands off his wife, but still that I admire. It is my +weakness that I could not be, as a man, honourable to Jean Jacques +Barbille. And so I pay the price; so I have to go without time to make +my will. Bless heaven above, I have no wife--" + +"If you had a wife you would not be dying now. You would not then meddle +with the home of Jean Jacques Barbille," sneered Jean Jacques. The note +was savage yet. + +"Ah, for sure, for sure! It is so. And if I lived I would marry at +once." + +Desperate as his condition was, the master-carpenter could almost have +laughed at the idea of marriage preventing him from following the bent of +his nature. He was the born lover. If he had been as high as the Czar, +or as low as the ditcher, he would have been the same; but it would be +madness to admit that to Jean Jacques now. + +"But, as you say, let me get on. My time has come--" + +Jean Jacques jerked his head angrily. "Enough of this. You keep on +saying 'Wait a little,' but your time has come. Now take it so, and +don't repeat." + +"A man must get used to the idea of dying, or he will die hard," replied +the master-carpenter, for he saw that Jean Jacques' hands were not so +tightly clenched on the lever now; and time was everything. He had +already been near five minutes, and every minute was a step to a chance +of escape--somehow. + +"I said you were to blame," he continued. "Listen, Jean Jacques +Barbille. You, a man of mind, married a girl who cared more for a touch +of your hand than a bucketful of your knowledge, which every man in the +province knows is great. At first you were almost always thinking of her +and what a fine woman she was, and because everyone admired her, you +played the peacock, too. I am not the only peacock. You are a good man +--no one ever said anything against your character. But always, always, +you think most of yourself. It is everywhere you go as if you say, 'Look +out. I am coming. I am Jean Jacques Barbille. + +"'Make way for Jean Jacques. I am from the Manor Cartier. You have heard +of me.' . . . That is the way you say things in your mind. But all +the time the people say, 'That is Jean Jacques Barbille, but you should +see his wife. She is a wonder. She is at home at the Manor with the +cows and the geese. Jean Jacques travels alone through the parish to +Quebec, to Three Rivers, to Tadousac, to the great exhibition at +Montreal, but madame, she stays at home. M'sieu' Jean Jacques is nothing +beside her'--that is what the people say. They admire you for your +brains, but they would have fallen down before your wife, if you had +given her half a chance." + +"Ah, that's bosh--what do you know!" exclaimed Jean Jacques fiercely, +but he was fascinated too by the argument of the man whose life he was +going to take. + +"I know the truth, my money-man. Do you think she'd have looked at me if +you'd been to her what she thought I might be? No, bien sur! Did you +take her where she could see the world? No. Did you bring her presents? +No. Did you say, 'Come along, we will make a little journey to see the +world?' No. Do you think that a woman can sit and darn your socks, and +tidy your room, and bake you pancakes in the morning while you roast your +toes, and be satisfied with just that, and not long for something +outside?" + +Jean Jacques was silent. He did not move. He was being hypnotized by a +mind of subtle strength, by the logic of which he was so great a lover. + +The master-carpenter pressed his logic home. "No, she must sit in your +shadow always. She must wait till you come. And when you come, it was +'Here am I, your Jean Jacques. Fall down and worship me. I am your +husband.' Did you ever say, 'Heavens, there you are, the woman of all +the world, the rising and the setting sun, the star that shines, the +garden where all the flowers of love grow'? Did you ever do that? But +no, there was only one person in the world--there was only you, Jean +Jacques. You were the only pig in the sty." + +It was a bold stroke, but if Jean Jacques could stand that, he could +stand anything. There was a savage start on the part of Jean Jacques, +and the lever almost moved. + +"Stop one second!" cried the master-carpenter, sharply now, for in spite +of the sudden savagery on Jean Jacques' part, he felt he had an +advantage, and now he would play his biggest card. + +"You can kill me. It is there in your hand. No one can stop you. But +will that give you anything? What is my life? If you take it away, will +you be happier? It is happiness you want. Your wife--she will love you, +if you give her a chance. If you kill me, I will have my revenge in +death, for it is the end of all things for you. You lose your wife for +ever. You need not do so. She would have gone with me, not because of +me, but because I was a man who she thought would treat her like a +friend, like a comrade; who would love her--sacre, what husband could +help make love to such a woman, unless he was in love with himself +instead of her!" + +Jean Jacques rocked to and fro over the lever in his agitation, yet he +made no motion to move it. He was under a spell. + +Straight home drove the master-carpenter's reasoning now. "Kill me, and +you lose her for ever. Kill me, and she will hate you. You think she +will not find out? Then see: as I die I will shriek out so loud that she +can hear me, and she will understand. She will go mad, and give you over +to the law. And then--and then! Did you ever think what will become of +your child, of your Zoe, if you go to the gallows? That would be your +legacy and your blessing to her--the death of a murderer; and she would +be left alone with the woman that would hate you in death! Voila--do you +not see?" + +Jean Jacques saw. The terrific logic of the thing smote him. His wife +hating him, himself on the scaffold, his little Zoe disgraced and +dishonoured all her life; and himself out of it all, unable to help her, +and bringing irremediable trouble on her! As a chemical clears a muddy +liquid, leaving it pure and atomless, so there seemed to pass over Jean +Jacques' face a thought like a revelation. + +He took his hand from the lever. For a moment he stood like one awakened +out of a sleep. He put his hands to his eyes, then shook his head as +though to free it of some hateful burden. An instant later he stooped, +lifted up the ladder beside him, and let it down to the floor of the +flume. + +"There, go--for ever," he said. + +Then he turned away with bowed head. He staggered as he stepped down +from the bridge of the flume, where the lever was. He swayed from side +to side. Then he raised his head and looked towards his house. His +child lived there--his Zoe. + +"Moi je suis philosophe !" he said brokenly. + +After a moment or two, as he stumbled on, he said it again--"Me, I am a +philosopher!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"QUIEN SABE"--WHO KNOWS! + +This much must be said for George Masson, that after the terrible +incident at the flume he would have gone straight to the Manor Cartier +to warn Carmen, if it had been possible, though perhaps she already knew. +But there was Jean Jacques on his way back to the Manor, and nothing +remained but to proceed to Laplatte, and give the woman up for ever. He +had no wish to pull up stakes again and begin life afresh, though he was +only forty, and he had plenty of initiative left. But if he had to go, +he would want to go alone, as he had done before. Yes, he would have +liked to tell Carmen that Jean Jacques knew everything; but it was +impossible. She would have to face the full shock from Jean Jacques' +own battery. But then again perhaps she knew already. He hoped she did. + +At the very moment that Masson was thinking this, while he went to the +main road where he had left his horse and buggy tied up, Carmen came to +know. + +Carmen had not seen her husband that morning until now. She had waked +late, and when she was dressed and went into the dining-room to look for +him, with an apprehension which was the reflection of the bad dreams of +the night, she found that he had had his breakfast earlier than usual and +had gone to the mill. She also learned that he had eaten very little, +and that he had sent a man into Vilray for something or other. Try as +she would to stifle her anxiety, it obtruded itself, and she could eat no +breakfast. She kept her eyes on the door and the window, watching for +Jean Jacques. + +Yet she reproved herself for her stupid concern, for Jean Jacques would +have spoken last night, if he had discovered anything. He was not the +man to hold his tongue when he had a chance of talking. He would be sure +to make the most of any opportunity for display of intellectual emotion, +and he would have burst his buttons if he had known. That was the way +she put it in a vernacular which was not Andalusian. Such men love a +grievance, because it gives them an opportunity to talk--with a good case +and to some point, not into the air at imaginary things, as she had so +often seen Jean Jacques do. She knew her Jean Jacques. That is, she +thought she knew her Jean Jacques after living with him for over thirteen +years; but hers was a very common mistake. It is not time which gives +revelation, or which turns a character inside out, and exposes a new and +amazing, maybe revolting side to it. She had never really seen Jean +Jacques, and he had never really seen himself, as he was, but only as +circumstances made him seem to be. What he had showed of his nature all +these forty odd years was only the ferment of a more or less shallow +life, in spite of its many interests: but here now at last was life, with +the crust broken over a deep well of experience and tragedy. She knew as +little what he would do in such a case as he himself knew beforehand. As +the incident of the flume just now showed, he knew little indeed, for he +had done exactly the opposite of what he meant to do. It was possible +that Carmen would also do exactly the opposite of what she meant to do +in her own crisis. + +Her test was to come. Would she, after all, go off with the master- +carpenter, leaving behind her the pretty, clever, volatile Zoe. . . . +Zoe--ah, where was Zoe? Carmen became anxious about Zoe, she knew not +why. Was it the revival of the maternal instinct? + +She was told that Zoe had gone off on her pony to take a basket of good +things to a poor old woman down the river three miles away. She would be +gone all morning. By so much, fate was favouring her; for the child's +presence would but heighten the emotion of her exit from that place where +her youth had been wasted. Already the few things she had meant to take +away were secreted in a safe place some distance from the house, beside +the path she meant to take when she left Jean Jacques for ever. George +Masson wanted her, they were to meet to-day, and she was going--going +somewhere out of this intolerable dullness and discontent. + +When she pushed her coffee-cup aside and rose from the table without +eating, she went straight to her looking-glass and surveyed herself with +a searching eye. Certainly she was young enough (she said to herself) to +draw the eyes of those who cared for youth and beauty. There was not a +grey hair in the dark brown of her head, there was not a wrinkle--yes, +there were two at the corners of her mouth, which told the story of her +restlessness, of her hunger for the excitement of which she had been +deprived all these years. To go back to Cadiz?--oh, anywhere, anywhere, +so that her blood could beat faster; so that she could feel the stir of +life which had made her spirit flourish even in the dangers of the far- +off day when Gonzales was by her side. + +She looked at her guitar. She was sorry she could not take that away +with her. But Jean Jacques would, no doubt, send it after her with his +curse. She would love to play it once again with the old thrill; with +the thrill she had felt on the night of Zoe's birthday a little while +ago, when she was back again with her lover and the birds in the gardens +of Granada. She would sing to someone who cared to hear her, and to +someone who would make her care to sing, which was far more important. +She would sing to the master-carpenter. Though he had not asked her to +go with him--only to meet in a secret place in the hills--she meant to do +so, just as she once meant to marry Jean Jacques, and had done so. It +was true she would probably not have married Jean Jacques, if it had not +been for the wreck of the Antoine; but the wreck had occurred, and she +had married him, and that was done and over so far as she was concerned. +She had determined to go away with the master-carpenter, and though he +might feel the same hesitation as that which Jean Jacques had shown--she +had read her Norman aright aboard the Antoine--yet, still, George Masson +should take her away. A catastrophe had thrown Jean Jacques into her +arms; it would not be a catastrophe which would throw the master- +carpenter into her arms. It would be that they wanted each other. + +The mirror gave her a look of dominance--was it her regular features and +her classic head? Does beauty in itself express authority, just because +it has the transcendent thing in it? Does the perfect form convey +something of the same thing that physical force--an army in arms, a +battleship--conveys? In any case it was there, that inherent +masterfulness, though not in its highest form. She was not an +aristocrat, she was no daughter of kings, no duchess of Castile, no +dona of Segovia; and her beauty belonged to more primary manifestations; +but it was above the lower forms, even if it did not reach to the +highest. "A handsome even splendid woman of her class" would have been +the judgment of the connoisseur. + +As she looked in the glass at her clear skin, at the wonderful throat +showing so soft and palpable and tower-like under the black velvet ribbon +brightened by a paste ornament; as she saw the smooth breadth of brow, +the fulness of the lips, the limpid lustre of the large eyes, the well- +curved ear, so small and so like ivory, it came home to her, as it had +never done before, that she was wasted in this obscure parish of St. +Saviour's. + +There was not a more restless soul or body in all the hemisphere than the +soul and body of Carmen Barbille, as she went from this to that on the +morning when Jean Jacques had refrained from killing the soul-disturber, +the master-carpenter, who had with such skill destroyed the walls and +foundations of his home. Carmen was pointlessly busy as she watched for +the return of Jean Jacques. + +At last she saw him coming from the flume of the mill! She saw that he +stumbled as he walked, and that, every now and then, he lifted his head +with an effort and threw it back, and threw his shoulders back also, as +though to assert his physical manhood. He wore no hat, his hands were +making involuntary gestures of helplessness. But presently he seemed to +assert authority over his fumbling body and to come erect. His hands +clenched at his sides, his head came up stiffly and stayed, and with +quickened footsteps he marched rigidly forward towards the Manor. + +Then she guessed at the truth, and as soon as she saw his face she was +sure beyond peradventure that he knew. + +His figure darkened the doorway. Her first thought was to turn and flee, +not because she was frightened of what he would do, but because she did +not wish to hear what he would say. She shrank from the uprolling of the +curtain of the last thirteen years, from the grim exposure of the +nakedness of their life together. Her indolent nature in repose wanted +the dust of existence swept into a corner out of sight; yet when she was +roused, and there were no corners into which the dust could be swept, +she could be as bold as any better woman. + +She hesitated till it was too late to go, and then as he entered the +house from the staring sunlight and the peace of the morning, she +straightened herself, and a sulky, stubborn look came into her eyes. +He might try to kill her, but she had seen death in many forms far away +in Spain, and she would not be afraid till there was cause. Imagination +would not take away her courage. She picked up a half-knitted stocking +which lay upon the table, and standing there, while he came into the +middle of the room, she began to ply the needles. + +He stood still. Her face was bent over her knitting. She did not look +at him. + +"Well, why don't you look at me?" he asked in a voice husky with +passion. + +She raised her head and looked straight into his dark, distracted eyes. + +"Good morning," she said calmly. + +A kind of snarling laugh came to his lips. "I said good morning to my +wife yesterday, but I will not say it to-day. What is the use of saying +good morning, when the morning is not good!" + +"That's logical, anyhow," she said, her needles going faster now. She +was getting control of them--and of herself. + +"Why isn't the morning good? Speak. Why isn't it good, Carmen?" + +"Quien sabe--who knows!" she replied with exasperating coolness. + +"I know--I know all; and it is enough for a lifetime," he challenged. + +"What do you know--what is the 'all'?" Her voice had lost timbre. It +was suddenly weak, but from suspense and excitement rather than from +fear. + +"I saw you last night with him, by the river. I saw what you did. I +heard you say, 'Yes, to-morrow, for sure.' I saw what you did." + +Her eyes were busy with the knitting now. She did not know what to say. +Then, he had known all since the night before! He knew it when he +pretended that his head ached--knew it as he lay by her side all night. +He knew it, and said nothing! But what had he done--what had he done? +She waited for she knew not what. George Masson was to come and inspect +the flume early that morning. Had he come? She had not seen him. But +the river was flowing through the flume: she could hear the mill-wheel +turning--she could hear the mill-wheel turning! + +As she did not speak, with a curious husky shrillness to his voice he +said: "There he was down in the flume, there was I at the lever above, +there was the mill-wheel unlocked. There it was. I gripped the lever, +and--" + +Her great eyes stared with horror. The knitting-needles stopped; +a pallor swept across her face. She felt as she did when she heard the +court-martial sentence Carvillho Gonzales to death. + +The mill-wheel sounded louder and louder in her ears. + +"You let in the river!" she cried. "You drove him into the wheel--you +killed him!" + +"What else was there to do?" he demanded. "It had to be done, and it +was the safest way. It would be an accident. Such a thing might easily +happen." + +"You have murdered him!" she gasped with a wild look. + +"To call it murder!" he sneered. "Surely my wife would not call it +murder." + +"Fiend--not to have the courage to fight him!" she flung back at him. +"To crawl like a snake and let loose a river on a man! In any other +country, he'd have been given a chance." + +This was his act in a new light. He had had only one idea in his mind +when he planned the act, and that was punishment. What rights had a man +who had stolen what was nearer and dearer than a man's own flesh, and for +which he would have given his own flesh fifty times? Was it that Carmen +would now have him believe he ought to have fought the man, who had +spoiled his life and ruined a woman's whole existence. + +"What chance had I when he robbed me in the dark of what is worth fifty +times my own life to me?" he asked savagely. + +"Murderer--murderer!" she cried hoarsely. "You shall pay for this." + +"You will tell--you will give me up?" + +Her eyes were on the mill and the river . . . "Where--where is he? +Has he gone down the river? Did you kill him and let him go--like that!" + +She made a flinging gesture, as one would toss a stone. + +He stared at her. He had never seen her face like that--so strained and +haggard. George Masson was right when he said that she would give him +up; that his life would be in danger, and that his child's life would be +spoiled. + +"Murderer!" she repeated. "And when you go to the gallows, your child's +life--you did not think of that, eh? To have your revenge on the man who +was no more to blame than I, thinking only of yourself, you killed him; +but you did not think of your child." + +Ah, yes, surely George Masson was right! That was what he had said about +his child, Zoe. What a good thing it was he had not killed the ravager +of his home! + +But suddenly his logic came to his aid. In terrible misery as he was, he +was almost pleased that he could reason. "And you would give me over to +the law? You would send me to the gallows--and spoil your child's life?" +he retorted. + +She threw the knitting down and flung her hands up. "I have no husband. +I have no child. Take your life. Take it. I will go and find his +body," she said, and she moved swiftly towards the door. "He has gone +down the river--I will find him!" + +"He has gone up the river," he exclaimed. "Up the river, I say!" + +She stopped short and looked at him blankly. Then his meaning became +clear to her. + +"You did not kill him?" she asked scarce above a whisper. + +"I let him go," he replied. + +"You did not fight him--why?" There was scorn in her tone. + +"And if I had killed him that way?" he asked with terrible logic, as he +thought. + +"There was little chance of that," she replied scornfully, and steadied +herself against a chair; for, now that the suspense was over, she felt as +though she had been passed between stones which ground the strength out +of her. + +A flush of fierce resentment crossed over his face. "It is not +everything to be big," he rejoined. "The greatest men in the world have +been small like me, but they have brought the giant things to their +feet." + +She waved a hand disdainfully. "What are you going to do now?" she +asked. + +He drew himself up. He seemed to rearrange the motions of his mind +with a little of the old vanity, which was at once grotesque and piteous. +"I am going to forgive you and to try to put things right," he said. +"I have had my faults. You were not to blame altogether. I have left +you too much alone. I did not understand everything all through. I had +never studied women. If I had I should have done the right thing always. +I must begin to study women." The drawn look was going a little from his +face, the ghastly pain was fading from his eyes; his heart was speaking +for her, while his vain intellect hunted the solution of his problem. + +She could scarcely believe her ears. No Spaniard would ever have acted +as this man was doing. She had come from a land of No Forgiveness. +Carvillho Gonzales would have killed her, if she had been untrue to him; +and she would have expected it and understood it. + +But Jean Jacques was going to forgive her--going to study women, and so +understand her and understand women, as he understood philosophy! This +was too fantastic for human reason. She stared at him, unable to say a +word, and the distracted look in her face did not lessen. Forgiveness +did not solve her problem. + +"I am going to take you to Montreal--and then out to Winnipeg, when I've +got the cheese-factory going," he said with a wise look in his face, and +with tenderness even coming into his eyes. "I know what mistakes I've +made"--had not George Masson the despoiler told him of them?--"and I know +what a scoundrel that fellow is, and what tricks of the tongue he has. +Also he is as sleek to look at as a bull, and so he got a hold on you. +I grasp things now. Soon we will start away together again as we did at +Gaspe." + +He came close to her. "Carmen!" he said, and made as though he would +embrace her. + +"Wait--wait a little. Give me time to think," she said with dry lips, +her heart beating hard. Then she added with a flattery which she knew +would tell, "I cannot think quick as you do. I am slow. I must have +time. I want to work it all out. Wait till to-night," she urged. +"Then we can--" + +"Good, we will make it all up to-night," he said, and he patted her +shoulder as one would that of a child. It had the slight flavour of the +superior and the paternal. + +She almost shrank from his touch. If he had kissed her she would have +felt that she must push him away; and yet she also knew how good a man he +was. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CLERK OF THE COURT KEEPS A PROMISE + +"Well, what is it, M'sieu' Fille? What do you want with me? I've got a +lot to do before sundown, and it isn't far off. Out with it." + +George Masson was in no good humour; from the look on the face of the +little Clerk of the Court he had no idea that he would disclose any good +news. It was probably some stupid business about "money not being paid +into the Court," which had been left over from cases tried and lost; +and he had had a number of cases that summer. His head was not so clear +to-day as usual, but he had had little difficulties with M'sieu' Fille +before, and he was sure that there was something wrong now. + +"Do you want to make me a present?" he added with humorous impatience, +for though he was not in a good temper, he liked the Clerk of the Court, +who was such a figure at Vilray. + +The opening for his purpose did not escape M. Fille. He had been at a +loss to begin, but here was a natural opportunity for him. + +"Well, good advice is not always a present, but I should like mine to be +taken as such, monsieur," he said a little oracularly. + +"Oh, advice--to give me advice--that's why you've brought me in here, +when I've so much to do I can't breathe! Time is money with me, old +'un." + +"Mine is advice which may be money in your pocket, monsieur," remarked +the Clerk of the Court with meaning. "Money saved is money earned." +"How do you mean to save me money--by getting the Judge to give decisions +in my favour? That would be money in my pocket for sure. The Court has +been running against my interests this year. When I think I was never so +right in my life--bang goes the judgment of the Court against me, and +into my pocket goes my hand. I don't only need to save money, I need to +make it; so if you can help me in that way I'm your man, M'sieu' la +Fillette?" + +The little man bristled at the misuse of his name, and he flushed +slightly also; but there was always something engaging in the pleasure- +loving master-carpenter. He had such an eloquent and warm temperament, +the atmosphere of his personality was so genial, that his impertinence +was insulated. Certainly the master-carpenter was not unpopular, and +people could not easily resist the grip of his physical influence, while +mentally he was far indeed from being deficient. He looked as little +like a villain as a man could, and yet--and yet--a nature like that of +George Masson (even the little Clerk could see that) was not capable of +being true beyond the minute in which he took his oath of fidelity. +While the fit of willingness was on him he would be true; yet in reality +there was no truth at all--only self-indulgence unmarked by duty or +honour. + +"Give me a judgment for defamation of character. Give me a thousand +dollars or so for that, m'sieu', and you'll do a good turn to a deserving +fellow-citizen and admirer--one little thousand, that's all, m'sieu'. +Then I'll dance at your wedding and weep at your tomb--so there!" + +How easy he made the way for the little Clerk of the Court! "Defamation +of character"--could there possibly be a better opening for what he had +promised Judge Carcasson he would say! + +"Ah, Monsieur Masson," very officially and decorously replied M. Fille, +"but is it defamation of character? If the thing is true, then what is +the judgment? It goes against you--so there!" There was irony in the +last words. + +"If what thing is true?" sharply asked the mastercarpenter, catching at +the fringe of the idea in M. Fille's mind. "What thing?" + +"Ah, but it is true, for I saw it! Yes, alas! I saw it with my own +eyes. By accident of course; but there it was--absolute, uncompromising, +deadly and complete." + +It was a happy moment for the little Clerk of the Court when he could, in +such an impromptu way, coin a phrase, or a set of adjectives, which would +bear inspection of purists of the language. He loved to talk, though he +did not talk a great deal, but he made innumerable conversations in his +mind, and that gave him facility when he did speak. He had made +conversations with George Masson in his mind since yesterday, when he +gave his promise to Judge Carcasson; but none of them was like the real +conversation now taking place. It was all the impression of the moment, +while the phrases in his mind had been wonderfully logical things which, +from an intellectual standpoint, would have delighted the man whose cause +he was now engaged in defending. + +"You saw what, M'sieu' la Fillette? Out with it, and don't use such big +adjectives. I'm only a carpenter. 'Absolute, uncompromising, deadly, +complete'--that's a mouthful of grammar, my lords! Come, my sprig of +jurisprudence, tell us what you saw." There was an apparent nervousness +in Masson's manner now. Indeed he showed more agitation than when, a few +hours before, Jean Jacques had stood with his hand on the lever of the +gates of the flume, and the life of the master-carpenter at his feet, to +be kicked into eternity. + +"Four days ago at five o'clock in the afternoon"--in a voice formal and +exact, the little Clerk of the Court seemed to be reading from a paper, +since he kept his eyes fixed on the blotter before him, as he did in +Court--"I was coming down the hill behind the Manor Cartier, when my +attention--by accident--was drawn to a scene below me in the Manor. I +stopped short, of course, and--" + +"Diable! You stopped short 'of course' before what you saw! Spit it +out--what did you see?" George Masson had had a trying day, and there +was danger of losing control of himself. There was a whiteness growing +round the eyes, and eating up the warmth of the cheek; his admirably +smooth brow was contracted into heavy wrinkles, and a foot shifted +uneasily on the floor with a scraping sole. This drew the attention of +M. Fille, who raised his head reprovingly--he could not get rid of the +feeling that he was in court, and that a case was being tried; and the +severity of a Judge is naught compared with the severity of a Clerk of +the Court, particularly if he is small and unmarried, and has no one to +beat him into manageable humanity. + +M. Fille's voice was almost querulous. + +"If you will but be patient, monsieur! I saw a man with a woman in his +arms, and I fear that I must mention the name of the man. It is not +necessary to give the name of the woman, but I have it written here"-- +he tapped the paper--"and there is no mistake in the identity. The man's +name is George Masson, master-carpenter, of the town of Laplatte in the +province of Quebec." + +George Masson was as one hit between the eyes. He made a motion as +though to ward off a blow. "Name of Peter, old cock!" he exclaimed +abruptly. "You saw enough certainly, if you saw that, and you needn't +mention the lady's name, as you say. The evidence is not merely +circumstantial. You saw it with your own eyes, and you are an official +of the Court, and have the ear of the Judge, and you look like a saint to +a jury. Well for sure, I can't prove defamation of character, as you +say. But what then--what do you want?" + +"What I want I hope you may be able to grant without demur, monsieur. +I want you to give your pledge on the Book"--he laid his hand on a +Testament lying on the table--"that you will hold no further +communication with the lady." + +"Where do you come inhere? What's your standing in the business?" +Masson jerked out his words now. The Clerk of the Court made a reproving +gesture. "Knowing what I did, what I had seen, it was clear that I must +approach one or other of the parties concerned. Out of regard for the +lady I could not approach her husband, and so betray her; out of regard +for the husband I could not approach himself and destroy his peace; out +of regard for all concerned I could not approach the lady's father, for +then--" + +Masson interrupted with an oath. + +"That old reprobate of Cadiz--well no, bagosh! + +"And so you whisked me into your office with the talk of urgent business +and--" + +"Is not the business urgent, monsieur?" + +"Not at all," was the sharp reply of the culprit. + +"Monsieur, you shock me. Do you consider that your conduct is not +criminal? I have here"--he placed his hand on a book--"the Statutes of +Victoria, and it lays down with wholesome severity the law concerning the +theft of the affection of a wife, with the accompanying penalty, going as +high as twenty thousand dollars." + +George Masson gasped. Here was a new turn of affairs. But he set his +teeth. + +"Twenty thousand dollars--think of that!" he sneered angrily. + +"That is what I said, monsieur. I said I could save you money, and money +saved is money earned. I am your benefactor, if you will but permit me +to be so, monsieur. I would save you from the law, and from the damages +which the law gives. Can you not guess what would be given in a court of +the Catholic province of Quebec, against the violation of a good man's +home? Do you not see that the business is urgent?" + +"Not at all," curtly replied the master-carpenter. M. Fille bridled up, +and his spare figure seemed to gain courage and dignity. + +"If you think I will hold my peace unless you give your sacred pledge, +you are mistaken, monsieur. I am no meddler, but I have had much +kindness at the hands of Monsieur and Madame Barbille, and I will do what +I can to protect them and their daughter--that good and sweet daughter, +from the machinations, corruptions and malfeasance--" + +"Three damn good words for the Court, bagosh!" exclaimed Masson with a +jeer. + +"No, with a man devoid of honour, I shall not hesitate, for the Manor +Cartier has been the home of domestic peace, and madame, who came to us a +stranger, deserves well of the people of that ancient abode of chivalry- +the chivalry of France." + +"When we are wound up, what a humming we can make!" laughed George +Masson sourly. "Have you quite finished, m'sieu'?" + +"The matter is urgent, you will admit, monsieur?" again demanded M. +Fille with austerity. + +"Not at all." + +The master-carpenter was defiant and insolent, yet there was a devilish +kind of humour in his tone as in his attitude. + +"You will not heed the warning I give?" The little Clerk pointed to the +open page of the Victorian statutes before him. + +"Not at all." + +"Then I shall, with profound regret--" + +Suddenly George Masson thrust his face forward near that of M. Fille, who +did not draw back. + +"You will inform the Court that the prisoner refuses to incriminate +himself, eh?" he interjected. + +"No, monsieur, I will inform Monsieur Barbille of what I saw. I will do +this without delay. It is the one thing left me to do." + +In quite a grand kind of way he stood up and bowed, as though to dismiss +his visitor. + +As George Masson did not move, the other went to the door and opened it. +"It is the only thing left to do," he repeated, as he made a gentle +gesture of dismissal. + +"Not at all, my legal bombardier. Not at all, I say. All you know Jean +Jacques knows, and a good deal more--what he has seen with his own eyes, +and understood with his own mind, without legal help. So, you see, +you've kept me here talking when there's no need and while my business +waits. It is urgent, M'sieu' la Fillette--your business is stale. It +belongs to last session of the Court." He laughed at his joke. "M'sieu' +Jean Jacques and I understand each other." He laughed grimly now. "We +know each other like a book, and the Clerk of the Court couldn't get in +an adjective that would make the sense of it all clearer." + +Slowly M. Fille shut the door, and very slowly he came back. Almost +blindly, as it might seem, and with a moan, he dropped into his chair. +His eyes fixed themselves on George Masson. + +"Ah--that!" he said helplessly. "That! The little Zoe--dear God, the +little Zoe, and the poor madame!" His voice was aching with pain and +repugnance. + +"If you were not such an icicle naturally, I'd be thinking your interest +in the child was paternal," said the master-carpenter roughly, for the +virtuous horror of the other's face annoyed him. He had had a vexing +day. + +The Clerk of the Court was on his feet in a second. "Monsieur, you +dare!" he exclaimed. "You dare to multiply your crimes in that shameless +way. Begone! There are those who can make you respect decency. I am +not without my friends, and we all stand by each other in our love of +home--of sacred home, monsieur." + +There was something right in the master-carpenter at the bottom, with all +his villainy. It was not alone that he knew there were fifty men in the +Parish of St. Saviour's who would man-handle him for such a suggestion, +and for what he had done at the Manor Cartier, if they were roused; but +he also had a sudden remorse for insulting the man who, after all, had +tried to do him a service. His amende was instant. + +"I take it back with humble apology--all I can hold in both hands, +m'sieu'," he said at once. "I would not insult you so, much less Madame +Barbille. If she'd been like what I've hinted at, I wouldn't have gone +her way, for the promiscuous is not for me. I'll tell you the whole +truth of what happened to-day this morning. Last night I met her at the +river, and--"Then briefly he told all that had happened to the moment +when Jean Jacques had left him at the flume with the words, "Moi, je suis +philosophe!" And at the last he said: + +"I give you my word--my oath on this"--he laid his hand on the Testament +on the table--"that beyond what you saw, and what Jean Jacques saw, there +has been nothing." He held up a hand as though taking an oath. + +"Name of God, is it not enough what there has been?" whispered the +little Clerk. + +"Oh, as you think, and as you say! It is quite enough for me after to- +day. I'm a teetotaller, but I'm not so fond of water as to want to take +my eternal bath in it." He shuddered slightly. "Bien sur, I've had my +fill of the Manor Cartier for one day, my Clerk of the Court." + +"Bien sur, it was enough to set you thinking, monsieur," was the dry +comment of M. Fille, who was now recovering his composure. + +At that moment there came a knock at the door, and another followed +quickly; then there entered without waiting for a reply--Carmen Barbille. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE MASTER-CARPENTER HAS A PROBLEM + +The Clerk of the Court came to his feet with a startled "Merci!" and the +master-carpenter fell back with a smothered exclamation. Both men stared +confusedly at the woman as she shut the door slowly and, as it might +seem, carefully, before she faced them. + +"Here I am, George," she said, her face alive with vital adventure. + +His face was instantly swept by a storm of feeling for her, his nature +responded to the sound of her voice and the passion of her face. + +"Carmen--ah !" he said, and took a step forward, then stopped. The +hoarse feeling in his voice made her eyes flash gratitude and triumph, +and she waited for him to take her in his arms; but she suddenly +remembered M. Fille. She turned to him. + +"I am sorry to intrude, m'sieu'," she said. "I beg your pardon. They +told me at the office of avocat Prideaux that M'sieu' Masson was here. +So I came; but be sure I would not interrupt you if there was not cause." + +M. Fille came forward and took her hand respectfully. "Madame, it is the +first time you have honoured me here. I am very glad to receive you. +Monsieur and Mademoiselle Zoe, they are with you? They will also come in +perhaps?" + +M. Fille was courteous and kind, yet he felt that a duty was devolving on +him, imposed by his superior officer, Judge Carcasson, and by his own +conscience, and with courage he faced the field of trouble which his +simple question opened up. George Masson had but now said there had been +nothing more than he himself had seen from the hill behind the Manor; and +he had further said, in effect, that all was ended between Carmen +Barbille and himself; yet here they were together, when they ought to be +a hundred miles apart for many a day. Besides, there was the look in the +woman's face, and that intense look also in the face of the master- +carpenter! The Clerk of the Court, from sheer habit of his profession, +watched human faces as other people watch the weather, or the rise or +fall in the price of wheat and potatoes. He was an archaic little +official, and apparently quite unsophisticated; yet there was hidden +behind his ascetic face a quiet astuteness which would have been a +valuable asset to a worldly-minded and ambitious man. Besides, affection +sharpens the wits. Through it the hovering, protecting sense becomes +instinctive, and prescience takes on uncanny certainty. He had a real +and deep affection for Jean Jacques and his Carmen, and a deeper one +still for the child Zoe; and the danger to the home at the Manor Cartier +now became again as sharp as the knife of the guillotine. His eyes ran +from the woman to the man, and back again, and then with great courage he +repeated his question: + +"Monsieur and mademoiselle, they are well--they are with you, I hope, +madame?" + +She looked at him in the eyes without flinching, and on the instant she +was aware that he knew all, and that there had been talk with George +Masson. She knew the little man to be as good as ever can be, but she +resented the fact that he knew. It was clear George Masson had told him +--else how could he know; unless, perhaps, all the world knew! + +"You know well enough that I have come alone, my friend," she answered. +"It is no place for Zoe; and it is no place for my husband and him +together "she made a motion of the head towards the mastercarpenter. +"Santa Maria, you know it very well indeed!" + +The Clerk of the Court bowed, but made no reply. What was there to say +to a remark like that! It was clear that the problem must be worked out +alone between these two people, though he was not quite sure what the +problem was. The man had said the thing was over; but the woman had +come, and the look of both showed that it was not all over. + +What would the man do? What was it the woman wished to do? The master- +carpenter had said that Jean Jacques had spared him, and meant to forgive +his wife. No doubt he had done so, for Jean Jacques was a man of +sentiment and chivalry, and there was no proof that there had been +anything more than a few mad caresses between the two misdemeanants; yet +here was the woman with the man for whom she had imperilled her future +and that of her husband and child! + +As though Carmen understood what was going on in his mind, she said: +"Since you know everything, you can understand that I want a few words +with M'sieu' George here alone." + +"Madame, I beg of you," the Clerk of the Court answered instantly, his +voice trembling a little--"I beg that you will not be alone with him. As +I believe, your husband is willing to let bygones be bygones, and to +begin to-morrow as though there was no to-day. In such case you should +not see Monsieur Masson here alone. It is bad enough to see him here in +the office of the Clerk of the Court, but to see him alone--what would +Monsieur Jean Jacques say? Also, outside there in the street, if our +neighbours should come to know of the trouble, what would they say? I +wish not to be tiresome, but as a friend, a true friend of your whole +family, madame--yes, in spite of all, your whole family--I hope you will +realize that I must remain here. I owe it to a past made happy by +kindness which is to me like life itself. Monsieur Masson, is it not +so?" he added, turning to the master-carpenter. More flushed and +agitated than when he had faced Jean Jacques in the flume, the master- +carpenter said: "If she wants a few words-of farewell--alone with me, she +must have it, M'sieu' Fille. The other room--eh? Outside there"--he +jerked a finger towards the street--"they won't know that you are not +with us; and as for Jean Jacques, isn't it possible for a Clerk of the +Court to stretch the truth a little? Isn't the Clerk of the Court a man +as well as a mummy? I'd do as much for you, little lawyer, any time. A +word to say farewell, you understand!" He looked M. Fille squarely in +the eye. + +"If I had to answer M. Jean Jacques on such a matter--and so much at +stake--" + +Masson interrupted. "Well, if you like we'll bind your eyes and put wads +in your ears, and you can stay, so that you'll have been in the room all +the time, and yet have heard and seen nothing at all. How is that, +m'sieu'? It's all right, isn't it?" + +M. Fille stood petrified for a moment at the audacity of the proposition. +For him, the Clerk of the Court, to be blinded and made ridiculous with +wads in his ears-impossible! + +"Grace of Heaven, I would prefer to lie!" he answered quickly. "I will +go into the next room, but I beg that you be brief, monsieur and madame. +You owe it to yourselves and to the situation to be brief, and, if I may +say so, you owe it to me. I am not a practised Ananias." + +"As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, m'sieu'," returned Masson. + +"I must beg that you will make your farewells of a minute and no more," +replied the Clerk of the Court firmly. He took out his watch. "It is +six o'clock. I will come again at three minutes past six. That is long +enough for any farewell--even on the gallows." + +Not daring to look at the face of the woman, he softly disappeared into +the other room, and shut the door without a sound. + +"Too good for this world," remarked the master-carpenter when the door +closed tight. He said it after the disappearing figure and not to +Carmen. "I don't suppose he ever kissed a real grown-up woman in his +life. It would have shattered his frail little carcass if, if"--he +turned to his companion--"if you had kissed him, Carmen. He's made of +tissue-paper,--not tissue--and apple-jelly. Yes, but a stiff little +backbone, too, or he'd not have faced me down." + +Masson talked as though he were trying to gain time. "He said three +minutes," she returned with a look of death in her face. As George +Masson had talked with the Clerk of the Court, she had come to see, in so +far as agitation would permit, that he was not the same as when he left +her by the river the evening before. + +"There's no time to waste," she continued. "You spoke of farewells-- +twice you spoke, and three times he spoke of farewells between us. +Farewells--farewells--George--!" + +With sudden emotion she held out her arms, and her face flushed with +passion and longing. + +The tempest which shook her shook him also, and he swayed from side to +side like an animal uncertain if the moment had come to try its strength +with its foe; and in truth the man was fighting with himself. His +moments with Jean Jacques at the flume had expanded him in a curious kind +of way. His own arguments while he was fighting for his life had, in a +way, convinced himself. She was a rare creature, and she was alluring-- +more alluring than she had ever been; for a tragic sense had made her +thinner, had refined the boldness of her beauty, had given a wonderful +lustre to her eyes; and suffering has its own attraction to the +degenerate. But he, George Masson, had had a great shock, and he had +come out of the jaws of death by the skin of his teeth. It had been the +nearest thing he had ever known; for though once he had had a pistol +pointed at him, there was the chance that it might miss at half-a-dozen +yards, while there was no chance of the lever of the flume going wrong; +and water and a mill-wheel were as absolute as the rope of the gallows. + +In a sense he had saved himself by his cleverness, but if Jean Jacques +had not been just the man he was, he could not have saved himself. It +did not occur to him that Jean Jacques had acted weakly. He would not +have done what Jean Jacques had done, had Jean Jacques spoiled his home. +He would have sprung the lever; but he was not so mean as to despise Jean +Jacques because he had foregone his revenge. This master-carpenter had +certain gifts, or he could not have caused so much trouble in the world. +There is a kind of subtlety necessary to allure or delude even the +humblest of women, if she is not naturally bad; and Masson had had +experiences with the humblest, and also with those a little higher up. +This much had to be said for him, that he did not think Jean Jacques +contemptible because he had been merciful, or degraded because he had +chosen to forgive his wife. + +The sight of the woman, as she stood with arms outstretched, had made his +pulses pound in his veins, but the heat was suddenly chilled by the wave +of tragedy which had passed over him. When he had climbed out of the +flume, and opened the lever for the river to rush through, he had felt as +though ice--cold liquid flowed in his veins, not blood; and all day he +had been like that. He had moved much as one in a dream, and he had felt +for the first time in his life that he was not ready to bluff creation. +He had always faced things down, as long as it could be done; and when it +could not, he had retreated, with the comment that no man was wise who +took gruel when he needn't. He was now face to face with his greatest +problem. One thing was clear--they must either part for ever, or go +together, and part no more. There could be no half measures. She was +a remarkable woman in her way, with a will of her own, and a kind of +madness in her; and there could be no backing and filling. They only +had three minutes to talk together alone, and two of them were up. + +Her arms were held out to him, but he stood still, and before the fire of +her eyes his own eyes dropped. "No, not yet!" he exclaimed. "It's been +a day--heaven and hell, what a day it's been! He had me like that!" He +opened and shut his hand with fierce, spasmodic strength. "And he let me +go--oh, let me go like a fox out of a trap! I've had enough for one day +--blood of St. Peter, enough, enough!" + +The flame of desire in her eyes suddenly turned to fury. "It is +farewell, then, that you wish," she said hoarsely. "It is no more and +farewell then? You said it to him"--she pointed to the other room--"you +said it to Jean Jacques, and you say it to me--to me that's given you all +I have. Ah, what a beast you are, George Masson!" + +"No, Carmen, you have not given me all. If you had, there would be no +farewell. I would stand by you to the end of life, if I had taken all." +He lied, but that does not matter here. + +"All--all!" she cried. "What is all? Is it but the one thing that the +world says must part husband and wife? Caramba! Is that all? I have +given everything--I have had your arms around me--" + +"Yes, the Clerk of the Court saw that," he interrupted. "He saw from the +hill behind the Manor on Tuesday last." + +There was a tap at the door of the other room; it slowly opened, and the +figure of the Clerk appeared. "Two minutes--just two minutes more, old +trump!" said the master-carpenter, stretching out a hand. "One minute +will be enough," said Carmen, who was suffering the greatest humiliation +which can come to a woman. + +The Clerk looked at them both, and he was content. He saw that one +minute would certainly be enough. "Very well, monsieur and madame," he +said, and closed the door again. + +Carmen turned fiercely on the man. "M. Fille saw, did he, from Mont +Violet? Well, when I came here I did not care who saw. I only thought +of you--that you wanted me, and that I wanted you. What the world +thought was nothing, if you were as when we parted last night. . . . +I could not face Jean Jacques' forgiveness. To stay there, feeling that +I must be always grateful, that I must be humble, that I must pretend, +that I must kiss Jean Jacques, and lie in his arms, and go to mass and to +confession, and--" + +"There is the child, there is Zoe--" + +"Oh, it is you that preaches now--you that tempted me, that said I was +wasted at the Manor; that the parish did not understand me; that Jean +Jacques did not know a jewel of price when he saw it--little did you +think of Zoe then!" + +He made a protesting gesture. "Maybe so, Carmen, but I think now before +it is too late." + +"The child loves her father as she never loved me," she declared. "She +is twelve years old. She will soon be old enough to keep house for him, +and then to marry--ah, before there is time to think she will marry!" + +"It would be better then for you to wait till she marries before-- +before--" + +"Before I go away with you!" She gave a shrill, agonized laugh. "So +that is the end of it all! What did you think of my child when you +forced your way into my life, when you made me think of you--ah, quel +bete--what a coward and beast you are!" + +"No, I am not all coward, though I may be a beast," he answered. +"I didn't think of your child when I began to talk to you as I did. I +was out for all I could get. I was the hunter. And you were the finest +woman that I'd ever met and talked with; you--" + +"Oh, stop lying!" she cried with a face suddenly grown white and cold. + +"It isn't lying. You're the sort of woman to drive men mad. I went mad, +and I didn't think of your child. But this morning in the flume I saved +my life by thinking of her, and I saved your life, too, maybe, by +thinking of her; and I owe her something. I'm going to try to pay back +by letting her keep her mother. I never felt towards a woman as I've +felt towards you; and that's why I want to make things not so bad for you +as they might be." + +In her bitter eagerness she took a step nearer to him. "As things might +be, if you were the man you were yesterday, willing to throw up +everything for me?" + +"Like that--if you put it so," he answered. + +She walked slowly up to him, looking as though she would plunge a knife +into his heart. "I wish Jean Jacques had opened the gates," she said. +"It would have saved the hangman trouble." + +Then suddenly, and with a cry, she raised her hand and struck him full in +the face with her fist. At that instant came a tap at the door of the +other room, and the Clerk of the Court appeared. He saw the blow, and +drew back with an exclamation. + +Carmen turned to him. "Farewell has been said, M'sieu' Fille," she +remarked in a voice sombre with rage and despair, and she went to the +door leading to the street. + +Masson had winced at the blow, but he remained silent. He knew not what +to say or do. + +M. Fille hastily followed Carmen to the door. "You are going home, +dear madame? Permit me to accompany you," he said gently. "I have to +do business with Jean Jacques." + +A hand upon his chest, she pushed him back. "Where I go I'm going +alone," she said. Opening the door she went out, but turning back again +she gave George Masson a look that he never forgot. Then the door +closed. + +"Grace of God, she is not going home!" brokenly murmured the Clerk of +the Court. + +With a groan the master-carpenter started forward towards the door, but +M. Fille stepped between, laid a hand on his arm, and stopped him. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Confidence in a weak world gets unearned profit often +Enjoy his own generosity +Had the slight flavour of the superior and the paternal +He had only made of his wife an incident in his life +He was in fact not a philosopher, but a sentimentalist +He was not always sorry when his teasing hurt +Lacks a balance-wheel. He has brains, but not enough +Man who tells the story in a new way, that is genius +Missed being a genius by an inch +Not content to do even the smallest thing ill +You went north towards heaven and south towards hell + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONEY MASTER, PARKER, V2 *** + +********* This file should be named 6276.txt or 6276.zip ******** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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