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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Money Master, Complete, by Gilbert Parker
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Money Master, Complete
+
+Author: Gilbert Parker
+
+Last Updated: March 14, 2009
+Release Date: October 18, 2006 [EBook #6280]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONEY MASTER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+THE MONEY MASTER, Complete
+
+By Gilbert Parker
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+     EPOCH THE FIRST
+     I.        THE GRAND TOUR OF JEAN JACQUES BARBILLE
+     II.       THE REST OF THE STORY "TO-MORROW"
+     III.      "TO-MORROW"
+
+     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
+
+     EPOCH THE THIRD
+     XIII.     THE MAN FROM OUTSIDE
+     XIV.      "I DO NOT WANT TO GO"
+     XV.       BON MARCHE
+
+     EPOCH THE FOURTH
+     XVI.      MISFORTUNES COME NOT SINGLY
+     XVII.     HIS GREATEST ASSET
+     XVIII.    JEAN JACQUES HAS AN OFFER
+     XIX.      SEBASTIAN DOLORES DOES NOT SLEEP
+     XX.       "AU 'VOIR, M'SIEU' JEAN JACQUES"
+     XXI.      IF SHE HAD KNOWN IN TIME
+
+     EPOCH THE FIFTH
+     XXII.     BELLS OF MEMORY
+     XXIII.    JEAN JACQUES HAS WORK TO DO
+     XXIV.     JEAN JACQUES ENCAMPED.
+     XXV.      WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE
+     EPILOGUE
+
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+This book is in a place by itself among the novels I have written. Many
+critics said that it was a welcome return to Canada, where I had made my
+first success in the field of fiction. This statement was only meagrely
+accurate, because since 'The Right of Way' was published in 1901 I had
+written, and given to the public, 'Northern Lights', a book of short
+stories, 'You Never Know Your Luck', a short novel, and 'The World for
+Sale', though all of these dealt with life in Western Canada, and not
+with the life of the French Canadians, in which field I had made my
+first firm impression upon the public. In any case, The Money Master was
+favourably received by the press and public both in England and America,
+and my friends were justified in thinking, and in saying, that I was at
+home in French Canada and gave the impression of mastery of my material.
+If mastery of material means a knowledge of the life, and a sympathy
+with it, then my friends are justified; for I have always had an intense
+sympathy with, and admiration for, French Canadian life. I think the
+French Canadian one of the most individual, original, and distinctive
+beings of the modern world. He has kept his place, with his own
+customs, his own Gallic views of life, and his religious habits, with an
+assiduity and firmness none too common. He is essentially a man of
+the home, of the soil, and of the stream; he has by nature instinctive
+philosophy and temperamental logic. As a lover of the soil of Canada he
+is not surpassed by any of the other citizens of the country, English or
+otherwise.
+
+It would almost seem as though the pageantry of past French Canadian
+history, and the beauty and vigour of the topographical surroundings
+of French Canadian life, had produced an hereditary pride and
+exaltation--perhaps an excessive pride and a strenuous exaltation, but,
+in any case, there it was, and is. The French Canadian lives a more
+secluded life on the whole than any other citizen of Canada, though the
+native, adventurous spirit has sent him to the Eastern States of
+the American Union for work in the mills and factories, or up to the
+farthest reaches of the St. Lawrence, Ottawa, and their tributaries in
+the wood and timber trade.
+
+Domestically he is perhaps the most productive son of the North American
+continent. Families of twenty, or even twenty-five, are not unknown,
+and, when a man has had more than one wife, it has even exceeded that.
+Life itself is full of camaraderie and good spirit, marked by religious
+traits and sacerdotal influence.
+
+The French Canadian is on the whole sober and industrious; but when he
+breaks away from sobriety and industry he becomes a vicious element
+in the general organism. Yet his vices are of the surface, and do not
+destroy the foundations of his social and domestic scheme. A French
+Canadian pony used to be considered the most virile and lasting stock
+on the continent, and it is fair to say that the French Canadians
+themselves are genuinely hardy, long-lived, virile, and enduring.
+
+It was among such people that the hero of The Money Master, Jean Jacques
+Barbille, lived. He was the symbol or pattern of their virtues and
+of their weaknesses. By nature a poet, a philosopher, a farmer and an
+adventurer, his life was a sacrifice to prepossession and race instinct;
+to temperament more powerful than logic or common sense, though he was
+almost professionally the exponent of both.
+
+There is no man so simply sincere, or so extraordinarily prejudiced as
+the French Canadian. He is at once modest and vain; he is even lyrical
+in his enthusiasms; he is a child in the intrigues and inventions
+of life; but he has imagination, he has a heart, he has a love of
+tradition, and is the slave of legend. To him domestic life is the
+summum bonum of being. His four walls are the best thing which the world
+has to offer, except the cheerful and sacred communion of the Mass, and
+his dismissal from life itself under the blessing of his priest and with
+the promise of a good immortality.
+
+Jean Jacques Barbille had the French Canadian life of pageant, pomp, and
+place extraordinarily developed. His love of history and tradition
+was abnormal. A genius, he was, within an inch, a tragedy to the last
+button. Probably the adventurous spirit of his forefathers played
+a greater part in his development and in the story of his days than
+anything else. He was wide-eyed, and he had a big soul. He trained
+himself to believe in himself and to follow his own judgment; therefore,
+he invited loss upon loss, he made mistake upon mistake, he heaped
+financial adventure upon financial adventure, he ran great risks; and
+it is possible that his vast belief in himself kept him going when other
+men would have dropped by the wayside. He loved his wife and daughter,
+and he lost them both. He loved his farms, his mills and his manor, and
+they disappeared from his control.
+
+It must be remembered that the story of The Money Master really runs for
+a generation, and it says something for Jean Jacques Barbille that he
+could travel through scenes, many of them depressing, for long years,
+and still, in the end, provoke no disparagement, by marrying the
+woman who had once out of the goodness of her heart offered him
+everything--herself, her home, her honour; and it was to Jean Jacques's
+credit that he took neither until the death of his wife made him free;
+but the tremendous gift offered him produced a powerful impression upon
+his mind and heart.
+
+One of the most distinguished men of the world to-day wrote me in praise
+and protest concerning The Money Master. He declared that the first half
+of the book was as good as anything that had been done by anybody,
+and then he bemoaned the fact, which he believed, that the author had
+sacrificed his two heroines without real cause and because he was tired
+of them. There he was wrong. In the author's mind the story was planned
+exactly as it worked out. He was never tired; he was resolute. He was
+intent to produce, if possible, a figure which would breed and develop
+its own disasters, which would suffer profoundly for its own mistakes;
+but which, in the end, would triumph over the disasters of life and
+time. It was all deliberate in the main intention and plan. Any failures
+that exist in the book are due to the faults of the author, and to
+nothing else.
+
+Some critics have been good enough to call 'The Money Master' a
+beautiful book, and there are many who said that it was real, true, and
+faithful. Personally I think it is real and true, and as time goes on,
+and we get older, that is what seems to matter to those who love life
+and wish to see it well harvested.
+
+I do not know what the future of the book may be; what the future of
+any work of mine will be; but I can say this, that no one has had the
+pleasure in reading my books which I have had in making them. They have
+been ground out of the raw material of the soul. I have a hope that they
+will outlast my brief day, but, in any case, it will not matter. They
+have given me a chance of showing to the world life as I have seen it,
+and indirectly, and perhaps indistinctly, my own ideas of that life.
+'The Money Master' is a vivid and somewhat emotional part of it.
+
+
+
+
+EPOCH THE FIRST
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. THE GRAND TOUR OF JEAN JACQUES BARBILLE
+
+"Peace and plenty, peace and plenty"--that was the phrase M. Jean
+Jacques Barbille, miller and moneymaster, applied to his home-scene,
+when he was at the height of his career. Both winter and summer the
+place had a look of content and comfort, even a kind of opulence. There
+is nothing like a grove of pines to give a sense of warmth in winter
+and an air of coolness in summer, so does the slightest breeze make the
+pine-needles swish like the freshening sea. But to this scene, where
+pines made a friendly background, there were added oak, ash, and hickory
+trees, though in less quantity on the side of the river where were
+Jean Jacques Barbille's house and mills. They flourished chiefly on the
+opposite side of the Beau Cheval, whose waters flowed so waywardly--now
+with a rush, now silently away through long reaches of country. Here
+the land was rugged and bold, while farther on it became gentle and
+spacious, and was flecked or striped with farms on which low, white
+houses with dormer-windows and big stoops flashed to the passer-by the
+message of the pioneer, "It is mine. I triumph."
+
+At the Manor Cartier, not far from the town of Vilray, where Jean
+Jacques was master, and above it and below it, there had been battles
+and the ravages of war. At the time of the Conquest the stubborn
+habitants, refusing to accept the yielding of Quebec as the end of
+French power in their proud province, had remained in arms and active,
+and had only yielded when the musket and the torch had done their work,
+and smoking ruins marked the places where homes had been. They took
+their fortune with something of the heroic calm of men to whom an
+idea was more than aught else. Jean Jacques' father, grandfather, and
+great-great-grandfather had lived here, no one of them rising far, but
+none worthless or unnoticeable. They all had had "a way of their own,"
+as their neighbours said, and had been provident on the whole. Thus it
+was that when Jean Jacques' father died, and he came into his own, he
+found himself at thirty a man of substance, unmarried, who "could
+have had the pick of the province." This was what the Old Cure said in
+despair, when Jean Jacques did the incomprehensible thing, and married
+l'Espagnole, or "the Spanische," as the lady was always called in the
+English of the habitant.
+
+When she came it was spring-time, and all the world was budding, exuding
+joy and hope, with the sun dancing over all. It was the time between
+the sowing and the hay-time, and there was a feeling of alertness in
+everything that had life, while even the rocks and solid earth seemed to
+stir. The air was filled with the long happy drone of the mill-stones as
+they ground the grain; and from farther away came the soft, stinging
+cry of a saw-mill. Its keen buzzing complaint was harmonious with the
+grumble of the mill-stones, as though a supreme maker of music had tuned
+it. So said a master-musician and his friend, a philosopher from Nantes,
+who came to St. Saviour's in the summer just before the marriage, and
+lodged with Jean Jacques. Jean Jacques, having spent a year at Laval
+University at Quebec, had almost a gift of thought, or thinking; and he
+never ceased to ply the visiting philosopher and musician with questions
+which he proceeded to answer himself before they could do so; his
+quaint, sentimental, meretricious observations on life saddening while
+they amused his guests. They saddened the musician more than the other
+because he knew life, while the philosopher only thought it and saw it.
+
+But even the musician would probably have smiled in hope that day
+when the young "Spanische" came driving up the river-road from the
+steamboat-landing miles away. She arrived just when the clock struck
+noon in the big living-room of the Manor. As she reached the open
+doorway and the wide windows of the house which gaped with shady
+coolness, she heard the bell summoning the workers in the mills and on
+the farm--yes, M. Barbille was a farmer, too--for the welcome home to
+"M'sieu' Jean Jacques," as he was called by everyone.
+
+That the wedding had taken place far down in Gaspe and not in St.
+Saviour's was a reproach and almost a scandal; and certainly it was
+unpatriotic. It was bad enough to marry the Spanische, but to marry
+outside one's own parish, and so deprive that parish and its young
+people of the week's gaiety, which a wedding and the consequent
+procession and tour through the parish brings, was little less than
+treason. But there it was; and Jean Jacques was a man who had power to
+hurt, to hinder, or to help; for the miller and the baker are nearer to
+the hearthstone of every man than any other, and credit is a good thing
+when the oven is empty and hard times are abroad. The wedding in Gaspe
+had not been attended by the usual functions, for it had all been
+hurriedly arranged, as the romantic circumstances of the wooing
+required. Romance indeed it was; so remarkable that the master-musician
+might easily have found a theme for a comedy--or tragedy--and the
+philosopher would have shaken his head at the defiance it offered to the
+logic of things.
+
+Now this is the true narrative, though in the parish of St. Saviour's it
+is more highly decorated and has many legends hanging to it like tassels
+to a curtain. Even the Cure of to-day, who ought to know all the truth,
+finds it hard to present it in its bare elements; for the history
+of Jean Jacques Barbille affected the history of many a man in St.
+Saviour's; and all that befel him, whether of good or evil, ran through
+the parish in a thousand invisible threads.
+
+       .......................
+
+What had happened was this. After the visit of the musician and the
+philosopher, Jean Jacques, to sustain his reputation and to increase it,
+had decided to visit that Normandy from which his people had come at the
+time of Frontenac. He set forth with much 'eclat' and a little innocent
+posturing and ritual, in which a cornet and a violin figured, together
+with a farewell oration by the Cure.
+
+In Paris Jean Jacques had found himself bewildered and engulfed. He had
+no idea that life could be so overbearing, and he was inclined to resent
+his own insignificance. However, in Normandy, when he read the names on
+the tombstones and saw the records in the baptismal register of other
+Jean Jacques Barbilles, who had come and gone generations before, his
+self-respect was somewhat restored. This pleasure was dashed, however,
+by the quizzical attitude of the natives of his ancestral parish,
+who walked round about inspecting him as though he were a zoological
+specimen, and who criticized his accent--he who had been at Laval for
+one whole term; who had had special instruction before that time from
+the Old Cure and a Jesuit brother; and who had been the friend of
+musicians and philosophers!
+
+His cheerful, kindly self-assurance stood the test with difficulty, but
+it became a kind of ceremonial with him, whenever he was discomfited, to
+read some pages of a little dun-coloured book of philosophy, picked up
+on the quay at Quebec just before he sailed, and called, "Meditations in
+Philosophy." He had been warned by the bookseller that the Church had no
+love for philosophy; but while at Laval he had met the independent minds
+that, at eighteen to twenty-two, frequent academic groves; and he
+was not to be put off by the pious bookseller--had he not also had a
+philosopher in his house the year before, and was he not going to Nantes
+to see this same savant before returning to his beloved St. Saviour's
+parish.
+
+But Paris and Nantes and Rouen and Havre abashed and discomfited him,
+played havoc with his self-esteem, confused his brain, and vexed him
+by formality, and, more than all, by their indifference to himself. He
+admired, yet he wished to be admired; he was humble, but he wished all
+people and things to be humble with him. When he halted he wanted the
+world to halt; when he entered a cathedral--Notre Dame or any other; or
+a great building--the Law Courts at Rouen or any other; he simply
+wanted people to say, wanted the cathedral, or at least the cloister, to
+whisper to itself, "Here comes Jean Jacques Barbille."
+
+That was all he wanted, and that would have sufficed. He would not have
+had them whisper about his philosophy and his intellect, or the mills
+and the ash-factory which he meant to build, the lime-kilns he had
+started even before he left, and the general store he intended to open
+when he returned to St. Saviour's. Not even his modesty was recognized;
+and, in his grand tour, no one was impressed by all that he was, except
+once. An ancestor, a grandmother of his, had come from the Basque
+country; and so down to St. Jean Pied de Port he went; for he came of a
+race who set great store by mothers and grandmothers. At St. Jean Pied
+de Port he was more at home. He was, in a sense, a foreigner among
+foreigners there, and the people were not quizzical, since he was
+an outsider in any case and not a native returned, as he had been in
+Normandy. He learned to play pelota, the Basque game taken from the
+Spaniards, and he even allowed himself a little of that oratory which,
+as they say, has its habitat chiefly in Gascony. And because he had
+found an audience at last, he became a liberal host, and spent freely
+of his dollars, as he had never done either in Normandy, Paris, or
+elsewhere. So freely did he spend, that when he again embarked at
+Bordeaux for Quebec, he had only enough cash left to see him through the
+remainder of his journey in the great world. Yet he left France with
+his self-respect restored, and he even waved her a fond adieu, as the
+creaking Antoine broke heavily into the waters of the Bay of Biscay,
+while he cried:
+
+             "My little ship,
+             It bears me far
+             From lights of home
+             To alien star.
+             O vierge Marie,
+             Pour moi priez Dieu!
+             Adieu, dear land,
+             Provence, adieu."
+
+Then a further wave of sentiment swept over him, and he was vaguely
+conscious of a desire to share the pains of parting which he saw in
+labour around him--children from parents, lovers from loved. He could
+not imagine the parting from a parent, for both of his were in the bosom
+of heaven, having followed his five brothers, all of whom had died in
+infancy, to his good fortune, for otherwise his estate would now be only
+one-sixth of what it was. But he could imagine a parting with some sweet
+daughter of France, and he added another verse to the thrilling of the
+heart of Casimir Delavigne:
+
+             "Beloved Isaure,
+             Her hand makes sign--
+             No more, no more,
+             To rest in mine.
+             O vierge Marie,
+             Pour moi priez Dieu!
+             Adieu, dear land,
+             Isaure, adieu!"
+
+As he murmured with limpid eye the last words, he saw in the forecastle
+not far from him a girl looking at him. There was unmistakable sadness
+in her glance of interest. In truth she was thinking of just such a man
+as Jean Jacques, whom she could never see any more, for he had paid with
+his life the penalty of the conspiracy in which her father, standing now
+behind her on the leaky Antoine, had been a tool, and an evil tool. Here
+in Jean Jacques was the same ruddy brown face, black restless eye,
+and young, silken, brown beard. Also there was an air of certainty and
+universal comprehension, and though assertion and vanity were apparent,
+there was no self-consciousness. The girl's dead and gone conspirator
+had not the same honesty of face, the same curve of the ideal in the
+broad forehead, the same poetry of rich wavy brown hair, the same
+goodness of mind and body so characteristic of Jean Jacques--he was but
+Jean Jacques gone wrong at the start; but the girl was of a nature
+that could see little difference between things which were alike
+superficially, and in the young provincial she only saw one who looked
+like the man she had loved. True, his moustaches did not curl upwards at
+the ends as did those of Carvillho Gonzales, and he did not look out of
+the corner of his eyes and smoke black cigarettes; but there he was, her
+Carvillho with a difference--only such a difference that made him to her
+Carvillho II., and not the ghost of Carvillho I.
+
+She was a maiden who might have been as good as need be for all life,
+so far as appearances went. She had a wonderful skin, a smooth, velvety
+cheek, where faint red roses came and went, as it might seem at will;
+with a deep brown eye; and eh, but she was grandly tall--so Jean Jacques
+thought, while he drew himself up to his full five feet, six and a half
+with a determined air. Even at his best, however, Jean Jacques could not
+reach within three inches of her height.
+
+Yet he did not regard her as at all overdone because of that. He thought
+her hair very fine, as it waved away from her low forehead in a grace
+which reminded him of the pictures of the Empress Eugenie, and of the
+sister of that monsieur le duc who had come fishing to St. Saviour's
+a few years before. He thought that if her hair was let down it would
+probably reach to her waist, and maybe to her ankles. She had none of
+the plump, mellow softness of the beauties he had seen in the Basque
+country. She was a slim and long limbed Diana, with fine lines and a
+bosom of extreme youth, though she must have been twenty-one her last
+birthday. The gown she wore was a dark green well-worn velvet, which
+seemed of too good a make and quality for her class; and there was no
+decoration about her anywhere, save at the ears, where two drops of gold
+hung on little links an inch and a half long.
+
+Jean Jacques Barbille's eyes took it all in with that observation of
+which he was so proud and confident, and rested finally on the drops of
+gold at her ears. Instinctively he fingered the heavy gold watch-chain
+he had bought in Paris to replace the silver chain with a little
+crucifix dangling, which his father and even his great-grandfather had
+worn before him. He had kept the watch, however--the great fat-bellied
+thing which had never run down in a hundred years. It was his mascot.
+To lose that watch would be like losing his share in the promises of the
+Church. So his fingers ran along the new gold-fourteen-carat-chain, to
+the watch at the end of it; and he took it out a little ostentatiously,
+since he saw that the eyes of the girl were on him. Involuntarily he
+wished to impress her.
+
+He might have saved himself the trouble. She was impressed. It was quite
+another matter however, whether he would have been pleased to know that
+the impression was due to his resemblance to a Spanish conspirator,
+whose object was to destroy the Monarchy and the Church, as had been the
+object of the middle-aged conspirator--the girl's father--who had the
+good fortune to escape from justice. It is probable that if Jean Jacques
+had known these facts, his story would never have been written, and he
+would have died in course of time with twenty children and a seat in the
+legislature; for, in spite of his ardent devotion to philosophy and its
+accompanying rationalism, he was a devout monarchist and a child of the
+Church.
+
+Sad enough it was that, as he shifted his glance from the watch, which
+ticked loud enough to wake a farmhand in the middle of the day, he found
+those Spanish eyes which had been so lost in studying him. In the glow
+and glisten of the evening sun setting on the shores of Bordeaux, and
+flashing reflected golden light to the girl's face, he saw that they
+were shining with tears, and though looking at him, appeared not to
+see him. In that moment the scrutiny of the little man's mind was
+volatilized, and the Spanische, as she was ultimately called, began her
+career in the life of the money-master of St. Saviour's.
+
+It began by his immediately resenting the fact that she should be
+travelling in the forecastle. His mind imagined misfortune and a lost
+home through political troubles, for he quickly came to know that the
+girl and her father were Spanish; and to him, Spain was a place of
+martyrs and criminals. Criminals these could not be--one had but to look
+at the girl's face; while the face of her worthless father might have
+been that of a friend of Philip IV. in the Escorial, so quiet and
+oppressed it seemed. Nobility was written on the placid, apathetic
+countenance, except when it was not under observation, and then the look
+of Cain took its place. Jean Jacques, however, was not likely to see
+that look; since Sebastian Dolores--that was his name--had observed from
+the first how the master-miller was impressed by his daughter, and he
+was set to turn it to account.
+
+Not that the father entered into an understanding with the girl. He knew
+her too well for that. He had a wholesome respect, not to say fear,
+of her; for when all else had failed, it was she who had arranged his
+escape from Spain, and who almost saved Carvillho Gonzales from being
+shot. She could have saved Gonzales, might have saved him, would
+have saved him, had she not been obliged to save her father. In the
+circumstances she could not save both.
+
+Before the week was out Jean Jacques was possessed of as fine a tale
+of political persecution as mind could conceive, and, told as it was by
+Sebastian Dolores, his daughter did not seek to alter it, for she had
+her own purposes, and they were mixed. These refugees needed a friend,
+for they would land in Canada with only a few dollars, and Carmen
+Dolores loved her father well enough not to wish to see him again in
+such distress as he had endured in Cadiz. Also, Jean Jacques, the
+young, verdant, impressionable French Catholic, was like her Carvillho
+Gonzales, and she had loved her Carvillho in her own way very
+passionately, and--this much to her credit--quite chastely. So that she
+had no compunction in drawing the young money-master to her side, and
+keeping him there by such arts as such a woman possesses. These are
+remarkable after their kind. They are combined of a frankness as to the
+emotions, and such outer concessions to physical sensations, as make a
+painful combination against a mere man's caution; even when that caution
+has a Norman origin.
+
+More than once Jean Jacques was moved to tears, as the Ananias of Cadiz
+told his stories of persecution.
+
+So that one day, in sudden generosity, he paid the captain the necessary
+sum to transfer the refugees from the forecastle to his own select
+portion of the steamer, where he was so conspicuous a figure among a
+handful of lower-level merchant folk and others of little mark who were
+going to Quebec. To these latter Jean Jacques was a gift of heaven, for
+he knew so much, and seemed to know so much more, and could give them
+the information they desired. His importance lured him to pose as a
+seigneur, though he had no claim to the title. He did not call himself
+Seigneur in so many words, but when others referred to him as the
+Seigneur, and it came to his ears, he did not correct it; and when he
+was addressed as such he did not reprove.
+
+Thus, when he brought the two refugees from the forecastle and assured
+his fellow-passengers that they were Spanish folk of good family exiled
+by persecution, his generosity was acclaimed, even while all saw he was
+enamoured of Carmen. Once among the first-class passengers, father and
+daughter maintained reserve, and though there were a few who saw that
+they were not very far removed above peasants, still the dress of
+the girl, which was good--she had been a maid in a great nobleman's
+family--was evidence in favour of the father's story. Sebastian Dolores
+explained his own workman's dress as having been necessary for his
+escape.
+
+Only one person gave Jean Jacques any warning. This was the captain
+of the Antoine. He was a Basque, he knew the Spanish people well--the
+types, the character, the idiosyncrasies; and he was sure that Sebastian
+Dolores and his daughter belonged to the lower clerical or higher
+working class, and he greatly inclined towards the former. In that he
+was right, because Dolores, and his father before him, had been employed
+in the office of a great commercial firm in Cadiz, and had repaid much
+consideration by stirring up strife and disloyalty in the establishment.
+But before the anarchist subtracted himself from his occupation, he had
+appropriated certain sums of money, and these had helped to carry him
+on, when he attached himself to the revolutionaries. It was on his
+daughter's savings that he was now travelling, with the only thing he
+had saved from the downfall, which was his head. It was of sufficient
+personal value to make him quite cheerful as the Antoine plunged and
+shivered on her way to the country where he could have no steady work as
+a revolutionist.
+
+With reserve and caution the Basque captain felt it his duty to tell
+Jean Jacques of his suspicions, warning him that the Spaniards were the
+choicest liars in the world, and were not ashamed of it; but had
+the same pride in it as had their greatest rivals, the Arabs and the
+Egyptians.
+
+His discreet confidences, however, were of no avail; he was not discreet
+enough. If he had challenged the bona fides of Sebastian Dolores only,
+he might have been convincing, but he used the word "they" constantly,
+and that roused the chivalry of Jean Jacques. That the comely, careful
+Carmen should be party to an imposture was intolerable. Everything about
+her gave it the lie. Her body was so perfect and complete, so finely
+contrived and balanced, so cunningly curved with every line filled in;
+her eye was so full of lustre and half-melancholy too; her voice had
+such a melodious monotone; her mouth was so ripe and yet so distant in
+its luxury, that imposture was out of the question.
+
+Ah, but Jean Jacques was a champion worth while! He did nothing
+by halves. He was of the breed of men who grow more intense, more
+convinced, more thorough, as they talk. One adjective begets another,
+one warm allusion gives birth to a warmer, one flashing impulse evokes a
+brighter confidence, till the atmosphere is flaming with conviction. If
+Jean Jacques started with faint doubt regarding anything, and allowed
+himself betimes the flush of a declaration of belief, there could be but
+one end. He gathered fire as he moved, impulse expanded into momentum,
+and momentum became an Ariel fleeing before the dark. He would start
+by offering a finger to be pricked, and would end by presenting his own
+head on a charger. He was of those who hypnotize themselves, who glow
+with self-creation, who flower and bloom without pollen.
+
+His rejection of the captain's confidence even had a dignity. He
+took out his watch which represented so many laborious hours of other
+Barbilles, and with a decision in which the strong pulse of chivalry was
+beating hard, he said:
+
+"I can never speak well till I have ate. That is my hobby. Well, so
+it is. And I like good company. So that is why I sit beside Senor and
+Senorita Dolores at table--the one on the right, the other on the left,
+myself between, like this, like that. It is dinner-time now here, and
+my friends--my dear friends of Cadiz--they wait me. Have you heard
+the Senorita sing the song of Spain, m'sieu'? What it must be with the
+guitar, I know not; but with voice alone it is ravishing. I have learned
+it also. The Senorita has taught me. It is a song of Aragon. It is sung
+in high places. It belongs to the nobility. Ah, then, you have not heard
+it--but it is not too late! The Senorita, the unhappy ma'm'selle, driven
+from her ancestral home by persecution, she will sing it to you as she
+has sung it to me. It is your due. You are the master of the ship. But,
+yes, she shall of her kindness and of her grace sing it to you. You do
+not know how it runs? Well, it is like this--listen and tell me if it
+does not speak of things that belong to the old regime, the ancient
+noblesse--listen, m'sieu' le captainne, how it runs:
+
+       "Have you not heard of mad Murcie?
+        Granada gay and And'lousie?
+        There's where you'll see the joyous rout,
+        When patios pour their beauties out;
+        Come, children, come, the night gains fast,
+        And Time's a jade too fair to last.
+        My flower of Spain, my Juanetta,
+        Away, away to gay Jota!
+        Come forth, my sweet, away, my queen,
+        Though daybreak scorns, the night's between.
+        The Fete's afoot--ah! ah! ah! ah!
+        De la Jota Ar'gonesa.
+        Ah!  ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
+        De la Jota Ar'gonesa."
+
+Before he had finished, the captain was more than ready to go, for he
+had no patience with such credulity, simplicity and sentimentalism. He
+was Basque, and to be Basque is to lack sentiment and feel none, to play
+ever for the safe thing, to get without giving, and to mind your own
+business. It had only been an excessive sense of duty which had made the
+captain move in this, for he liked Jean Jacques as everyone aboard his
+Antoine did; and he was convinced that the Spaniards would play the
+"Seigneur" to the brink of disaster at least, though it would have been
+hard to detect any element of intrigue or coquetry in Carmen Dolores.
+
+That was due partly to the fact that she was still in grief for her
+Gonzales, whose heart had been perforated by almost as many bullets
+as the arrows of Cupid had perforated it in his short, gay life of
+adventure and anarchy; also partly because there was no coquetry needed
+to interest Jean Jacques. If he was interested it was not necessary to
+interest anyone else, nor was it expedient to do so, for the biggest
+fish in the net on the Antoine was the money-master of St. Saviour's.
+
+Carmen had made up her mind from the first to marry Jean Jacques, and
+she deported herself accordingly--with modesty, circumspection and
+skill. It would be the easiest way out of all their difficulties. Since
+her heart, such as it was, fluttered, a mournful ghost, over the Place
+d'Armes, where her Gonzales was shot, it might better go to Jean Jacques
+than anyone else; for he was a man of parts, of money, and of looks, and
+she loved these all; and to her credit she loved his looks better
+than all the rest. She had no real cupidity, and she was not greatly
+enamoured of brains. She had some real philosophy of life learned in a
+hard school; and it was infinitely better founded than the smattering of
+conventional philosophy got by Jean Jacques from his compendium picked
+up on the quay at Quebec.
+
+Yet Jean Jacques' cruiser of life was not wholly unarmed. From his
+Norman forebears he had, beneath all, a shrewdness and an elementary
+alertness not submerged by his vain, kind nature. He was quite a good
+business man, and had proved himself so before his father died--very
+quick to see a chance, and even quicker to see where the distant, sharp
+corners in the road were; though not so quick to see the pitfalls, for
+his head was ever in the air. And here on the Antoine, there crossed his
+mind often the vision of Carmen Dolores and himself in the parish of St.
+Saviour's, with the daily life of the Beau Cheval revolving about him.
+Flashes of danger warned him now and then, just at the beginning of the
+journey, as it were; just before he had found it necessary to become
+her champion against the captain and his calumnies; but they were of the
+instant only. But champion as he became, and worshipping as his manner
+seemed, it all might easily have been put down to a warm, chivalrous,
+and spontaneous nature, which had not been bitted or bridled, and he
+might have landed at Quebec without committing himself, were it not for
+the fact that he was not to land at Quebec.
+
+That was the fact which controlled his destiny. He had spent many, many
+hours with the Dona Dolores, talking, talking, as he loved to talk, and
+only saving himself from the betise of boring her by the fact that his
+enthusiasm had in it so fresh a quality, and because he was so like
+her Gonzales that she could always endure him. Besides, quick of
+intelligence as she was, she was by nature more material than she
+looked, and there was certainly something physically attractive in
+him--some curious magnetism. She had a well of sensuousness which might
+one day become sensuality; she had a richness of feeling and a contour
+in harmony with it, which might expand into voluptuousness, if given
+too much sun, or if untamed by the normal restraints of a happy married
+life. There was an earthquake zone in her being which might shake down
+the whole structure of her existence. She was unsafe, not because she
+was deceiving Jean Jacques now as to her origin and as to her feelings
+for him; she was unsafe because of the natural strain of the light of
+love in her, joined to a passion for comfort and warmth and to a natural
+self-indulgence. She was determined to make Jean Jacques offer himself
+before they landed at Quebec.
+
+But they did not land at Quebec.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. "THE REST OF THE STORY TO-MORROW"
+
+The journey wore on to the coast of Canada. Gaspe was not far off when,
+still held back by the constitutional tendency of the Norman not to
+close a bargain till compelled to do so, Jean Jacques sat with Carmen
+far forward on the deck, where the groaning Antoine broke the waters
+into sullen foam. There they silently watched the sunset, golden, purple
+and splendid--and ominous, as the captain knew.
+
+"Look, the end of life--like that!" said Jean Jacques oratorically with
+a wave of the hand towards the prismatic radiance.
+
+"All the way round, the whole circle--no, it would be too much," Carmen
+replied sadly. "Better to go at noon--or soon after. Then the only
+memory of life would be of the gallop. No crawling into the night for
+me, if I can help it. Mother of Heaven, no! Let me go at the top of the
+flight."
+
+"It is all the same to me," responded Jean Jacques, "I want to know it
+all--to gallop, to trot, to walk, to crawl. Me, I'm a philosopher. I
+wait."
+
+"But I thought you were a Catholic," she replied, with a kindly, lurking
+smile, which might easily have hardened into scoffing.
+
+"First and last," he answered firmly.
+
+"A Catholic and a philosopher--together in one?" She shrugged a shoulder
+to incite him to argument, for he was interesting when excited;
+when spurting out little geysers of other people's cheap wisdom and
+philosophy, poured through the kind distortion of his own intelligence.
+
+He gave a toss of his head. "Ah, that is my hobby--I reconcile, I unite,
+I adapt! It is all the nature of the mind, the far-look, the all-round
+sight of the man. I have it all. I see."
+
+He gazed eloquently into the sunset, he swept the horizon with his hand.
+"I have the all-round look. I say the Man of Calvary, He is before all,
+the sun; but I say Socrates, Plato, Jean Jacques--that is my name, and
+it is not for nothing, that--Jean Jacques Rousseau, Descartes, Locke,
+they are stars that go round the sun. It is the same light, but not the
+same sound. I reconcile. In me all comes together like the spokes to
+the hub of a wheel. Me--I am a Christian, I am philosophe, also. In St.
+Saviour's, my home in Quebec, if the crops are good, what do men say?
+'C'est le bon Dieu--it is the good God,' that is what they say. If the
+crops are bad, what do they say? 'It is the good God'--that is what they
+say. It is the good God that makes crops good or bad, and it is the
+good God that makes men say, 'C'est le bon Dieu.' The good God makes the
+philosophy. It is all one."
+
+She appeared to grow agitated, and her voice shook as she spoke. "Tsh,
+it is only a fool that says the good God does it, when the thing that is
+done breaks you or that which you love all to pieces. No, no, no, it is
+not religion, it is not philosophy that makes one raise the head when
+the heart is bowed down, when everything is snatched away that was all
+in all. That the good God does it is a lie. Santa Maria, what a lie!"
+
+"Why 'Santa Maria,' then, if it is a lie?" he asked triumphantly. He did
+not observe how her breast was heaving, how her hands were clenched; for
+she was really busy with thoughts of her dead Carvillho Gonzales; but
+for the moment he could only see the point of an argument.
+
+She made a gesture of despair. "So--that's it. Habit in us is so strong.
+It comes through the veins of our mothers to us. We say that God is
+a lie one minute, and then the next minute we say, 'God guard you!'
+Always--always calling to something, for something outside ourselves.
+That is why I said Santa Maria, why I ask her to pray for the soul of
+my friend, to pray to the God that breaks me and mine, and sends us over
+the seas, beggars without a home."
+
+Now she had him back out of the vanities of his philosophy. He was up,
+inflamed, looking at her with an excitement on which she depended for
+her future. She knew the caution of his nature, she realized how he
+would take one step forward and another step back, and maybe get nowhere
+in the end, and she wanted him--for a home, for her father's sake, for
+what he could do for them both. She had no compunctions. She thought
+herself too good for him, in a way, for in her day men of place and mark
+had taken notice of her; and if it had not been for her Gonzales she
+would no doubt have listened to one of them sometime or another. She
+knew she had ability, even though she was indolent, and she thought she
+could do as much for him as any other girl. If she gave him a handsome
+wife and handsome children, and made men envious of him, and filled him
+with good things, for she could cook more than tortillas-she felt he
+would have no right to complain. She meant him to marry her--and Quebec
+was very near!
+
+"A beggar in a strange land, without a home, without a friend--oh, my
+broken life!" she whispered wistfully to the sunset.
+
+It was not all acting, for the past reached out and swept over her,
+throwing waves of its troubles upon the future. She was that saddest of
+human beings, a victim of dual forces which so fought for mastery
+with each other that, while the struggle went on, the soul had no firm
+foothold anywhere. That, indeed, was why her Carvillho Gonzales, who
+also had been dual in nature, said to himself so often, "I am a devil,"
+and nearly as often, "I have the heart of an angel."
+
+"Tell me all about your life, my friend," Jean Jacques said eagerly.
+Now his eyes no longer hurried here and there, but fastened on hers and
+stayed thereabouts--ah, her face surely was like pictures he had seen in
+the Louvre that day when he had ambled through the aisles of great men's
+glories with the feeling that he could not see too much for nothing in
+an hour.
+
+"My life? Ah, m'sieu', has not my father told you of it?" she asked.
+
+He waved a hand in explanation, he cocked his head quizzically.
+"Scraps--like the buttons on a coat here and there--that's all,"
+he answered. "Born in Andalusia, lived in Cadiz, plenty of money,
+a beautiful home,"--Carmen's eyes drooped, and her face flushed
+slightly--"no brothers or sisters--visits to Madrid on political
+business--you at school--then the going of your mother, and you at home
+at the head of the house. So much on the young shoulders, the kitchen,
+the parlour, the market, the shop, society--and so on. That is the way
+it was, so he said, except in the last sad times, when your father, for
+the sake of Don Carlos and his rights, near lost his life--ah, I can
+understand that: to stand by the thing you have sworn to! France is a
+republic, but I would give my life to put a Napoleon or a Bourbon on the
+throne. It is my hobby to stand by the old ship, not sign on to a new
+captain every port."
+
+She raised her head and looked at him calmly now. The flush had gone
+from her face, and a light of determination was in her eyes. To that was
+added suddenly a certain tinge of recklessness and abandon in carriage
+and manner, as one flings the body loose from the restraints of clothes,
+and it expands in a free, careless, defiant joy.
+
+Jean Jacques' recital of her father's tale had confused her for a
+moment, it was so true yet so untrue, so full of lies and yet so
+solid in fact. "The head of the house--visits to Madrid on political
+business--the parlour, the market, society--all that!" It suggested the
+picture of the life of a child of a great house; it made her a lady,
+and not a superior servant as she had been; it adorned her with a credit
+which was not hers; and for a moment she was ashamed. Yet from the first
+she had lent herself to the general imposture that they had fled from
+Spain for political reasons, having lost all and suffered greatly; and
+it was true while yet it was a lie. She had suffered, both her father
+and herself had suffered; she had been in danger, in agony, in sorrow,
+in despair--it was only untrue that they were of good birth and blood,
+and had had position and comfort and much money. Well, what harm did
+that do anybody? What harm did it do this little brown seigneur from
+Quebec? Perhaps he too had made himself out to be more than he was.
+Perhaps he was no seigneur at all, she thought. When one is in distant
+seas and in danger of his life, one will hoist any flag, sail to any
+port, pay homage to any king. So would she. Anyhow, she was as good as
+this provincial, with his ancient silver watch, his plump little hands,
+and his book of philosophy.
+
+What did it matter, so all came right in the end! She would justify
+herself, if she had the chance. She was sick of conspiracy, and danger,
+and chicanery--and blood. She wanted her chance. She had been badly
+shaken in the last days in Spain, and she shrank from more worry and
+misery. She wanted to have a home and not to wander. And here was a
+chance--how good a chance she was not sure; but it was a chance. She
+would not hesitate to make it hers. After all, self-preservation was the
+thing which mattered. She wanted a bright fire, a good table, a horse,
+a cow, and all such simple things. She wanted a roof over her and a warm
+bed at night. She wanted a warm bed at night--but a warm bed at night
+alone. It was the price she would have to pay for her imposture, that if
+she had all these things, she could not be alone in the sleep-time. She
+had not thought of this in the days when she looked forward to a home
+with her Gonzales. To be near him was everything; but that was all
+dead and done for; and now--it was at this point that, shrinking, she
+suddenly threw off all restraining thoughts. With abandon of the
+mind came a recklessness of body, which gave her, all at once, a
+voluptuousness more in keeping with the typical maid of Andalusia. It
+got into the eyes and senses of Jean Jacques, in a way which had nothing
+to do with the philosophy of Descartes, or Kant, or Aristotle, or Hegel.
+
+"It was beautiful in much--my childhood," she said in a low voice,
+dropping her eyes before his ardent gaze, "as my father said. My mother
+was lovely to see, but not bigger than I was at twelve--so petite, and
+yet so perfect in form--like a lark or a canary. Yes, and she could
+sing--anything. Not like me with a voice which has the note of a drum or
+an organ--"
+
+"Of a flute, bright Senorita," interposed Jean Jacques.
+
+"But high, and with the trills in the skies, and all like a laugh with a
+tear in it. When she went to the river to wash--"
+
+She was going to say "wash the clothes," but she stopped in time and
+said instead, "wash her spaniel and her pony"--her face was flushed
+again with shame, for to lie about one's mother is a sickening thing,
+and her mother never had a spaniel or a pony--"the women on the shore
+wringing their clothes, used to beg her to sing. To the hum of the river
+she would make the music which they loved--"
+
+"La Manola and such?" interjected Jean Jacques eagerly. "That's a fine
+song as you sing it."
+
+"Not La Manola, but others of a different sort--The Love of Isabella,
+The Flight of Bobadil, Saragosse, My Little Banderillero, and so on, and
+all so sweet that the women used to cry. Always, always she was singing
+till the time when my father became a rebel. Then she used to cry too;
+and she would sing no more; and when my father was put against a wall to
+be shot, and fell in the dust when the rifles rang out, she came at the
+moment, and seeing him lying there, she threw up her hands, and fell
+down beside him dead--"
+
+"The poor little senora, dead too--"
+
+"Not dead too--that was the pity of it. You see my father was not dead.
+The officer"--she did not say sergeant--"who commanded the firing squad,
+he was what is called a compadre of my father--"
+
+"Yes, I understand--a made-brother, sealed with an oath, which binds
+closer than a blood-brother. It is that, is it not?"
+
+"So--like that. Well, the compadre had put blank cartridges in their
+rifles, and my father pretended to fall dead; and the soldiers were
+marched away; and my father, with my mother, was carried to his home,
+still pretending to be dead. It had been all arranged except the awful
+thing, my mother's death. Who could foresee that? She ought to have been
+told; but who could guess that she would hear of it all, and come at the
+moment like that? So, that was the way she went, and I was left alone
+with my father." She had told the truth in all, except in conveying that
+her mother was not of the lower orders, and that she went to the river
+to wash her spaniel and her pony instead of her clothes.
+
+"Your father--did they not arrest him again? Did they not know?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders. "That is not the way in Spain. He was shot,
+as the orders were, with his back to the wall by a squad of soldiers
+with regulation bullets. If he chose to come to life again, that was
+his own affair. The Government would take no notice of him after he was
+dead. He could bury himself, or he could come alive--it was all the same
+to them. So he came alive again."
+
+"That is a story which would make a man's name if he wrote it down,"
+said Jean Jacques eloquently. "And the poor little senora, but my heart
+bleeds for her! To go like that in such pain, and not to know--If she
+had been my wife I think I would have gone after her to tell her it was
+all right, and to be with her--"
+
+He paused confused, for that seemed like a reflection on her father's
+chivalry, and for a man who had risked his life for his banished
+king--what would he have thought if he had been told that Sebastian
+Dolores was an anarchist who loathed kings!--it was an insult to suggest
+that he did not know the right thing to do, or, knowing, had not done
+it.
+
+She saw the weakness of his case at once. "There was his duty to the
+living," she said indignantly.
+
+"Ah, forgive me--what a fool I am!" Jean Jacques said repentantly at
+once. "There was his little girl, his beloved child, his Carmen Dolores,
+so beautiful, with the voice like a flute, and--"
+
+He drew nearer to her, his hand was outstretched to take hers; his eyes
+were full of the passion of the moment; pity was drowning all caution,
+all the Norman shrewdness in him, when the Antoine suddenly stopped
+almost dead with a sudden jolt and shock, then plunged sideways, jerked,
+and trembled.
+
+"We've struck a sunk iceberg--the rest of the story to-morrow,
+Senorita," he cried, as they both sprang to their feet.
+
+"The rest of the story to-morrow," she repeated, angry at the stroke
+of fate which had so interrupted the course of her fortune. She said it
+with a voice also charged with fear; for she was by nature a landfarer,
+not a sea-farer, though on the rivers of Spain she had lived almost as
+much as on land, and she was a good swimmer.
+
+"The rest to-morrow," she repeated, controlling herself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. "TO-MORROW"
+
+The rest came to-morrow. When the Antoine struck the sunken iceberg she
+was not more than one hundred and twenty miles from the coast of Gaspe.
+She had not struck it full on, or she would have crumpled up, but had
+struck and glanced, mounting the berg, and sliding away with a small
+gaping wound in her side, broken internally where she had been weakest.
+Her condition was one of extreme danger, and the captain was by no means
+sure that he could make the land. If a storm or a heavy sea came on,
+they were doomed.
+
+As it was, with all hands at the pumps the water gained on her, and she
+moaned and creaked and ached her way into the night with no surety that
+she would show a funnel to the light of another day. Passengers and crew
+alike worked, and the few boats were got ready to lower away when
+the worst should come to the worst. Below, with the crew, the little
+moneymaster of St. Saviour's worked with an energy which had behind it
+some generations of hardy qualities; and all the time he refused to be
+downcast. There was something in his nature or in his philosophy after
+all. He had not much of a voice, but it was lusty and full of good
+feeling; and when cursing began, when a sailor even dared to curse his
+baptism--the crime of crimes to a Catholic mind--Jean Jacques began to
+sing a cheery song with which the habitants make vocal their labours or
+their playtimes:
+
+          "A Saint-Malo, beau port de mer,
+          Trois gros navir's sont arrives,
+          Trois gros navir's sont arrives
+          Charges d'avoin', charges de ble.
+          Charges d'avoin', charges de ble:
+          Trois dam's s'en vont les marchander."
+
+And so on through many verses, with a heartiness that was a good
+antidote to melancholy, even though it was no specific for a shipwreck.
+It played its part, however; and when Jean Jacques finished it, he
+plunged into that other outburst of the habitant's gay spirits, 'Bal
+chez Boule':
+
+       "Bal chez Boule, bal chez Boule,
+        The vespers o'er, we'll away to that;
+        With our hearts so light, and our feet so gay,
+        We'll dance to the tune of 'The Cardinal's Hat'
+        The better the deed, the better the day
+        Bal chez Boule, bal chez Boule!"
+
+And while Jean Jacques worked "like a little French pony," as they say
+in Canada of every man with the courage to do hard things in him, he
+did not stop to think that the scanty life-belts had all been taken,
+and that he was a very poor swimmer indeed: for, as a child, he had been
+subject to cramp, and so had made the Beau Cheval River less his friend
+than would have been useful now.
+
+He realized it, however, soon after daybreak, when, within a few hundred
+yards of the shores of Gaspe, to which the good Basque captain had been
+slowly driving the Antoine all night, there came the cry, "All hands
+on deck!" and "Lower the boats!" for the Antoine's time had come, and
+within a hand-reach of shore almost she found the end of her rickety
+life. Not more than three-fourths of the passengers and crew were got
+into the boats. Jean Jacques was not one of these; but he saw Carmen
+Dolores and her father safely bestowed, though in different boats. To
+the girl's appeal to him to come he gave a nod of assent, and said he
+would get in at the last moment; but this he did not do, pushing into
+the boat instead a crying lad of fifteen, who said he was afraid to die.
+
+So it was that Jean Jacques took to the water side by side with the
+Basque captain, when the Antoine groaned and shook, and then grew still,
+and presently, with some dignity, dipped her nose into the shallow sea
+and went down.
+
+"The rest of the story to-morrow," Jean Jacques had said when the vessel
+struck the iceberg the night before; and so it was.
+
+The boat in which Carmen had been placed was swamped not far from shore,
+but she managed to lay hold of a piece of drifting wreckage, and began
+to fight steadily and easily landward. Presently she was aware, however,
+of a man struggling hard some little distance away to the left of her,
+and from the tousled hair shaking in the water she was sure that it was
+Jean Jacques.
+
+So it proved to be; and thus it was that, at his last gasp almost, when
+he felt he could keep up no longer, the wooden seat to which Carmen
+clung came to his hand, and a word of cheer from her drew his head up
+with what was almost a laugh.
+
+"To think of this!" he said presently when he was safe, with her
+swimming beside him without support, for the wooden seat would not
+sustain the weight of two. "To think that it is you who saves me!" he
+again declared eloquently, as they made the shore in comparative ease,
+for she was a fine swimmer.
+
+"It is the rest of the story," he said with great cheerfulness and
+aplomb as they stood on the shore in the morning sun, shoeless,
+coatless, but safe: and she understood.
+
+There was nothing else for him to do. The usual process of romance had
+been reversed. He had not saved her life, she had saved his. The least
+that he could do was to give her shelter at the Manor Cartier yonder
+at St. Saviour's, her and, if need be, her father. Human gratitude
+must have play. It was so strong in this case that it alone could have
+overcome the Norman caution of Jean Jacques, and all his worldly wisdom
+(so much in his own eyes). Added thereto was the thing which had been
+greatly stirred in him at the instant the Antoine struck; and now he
+kept picturing Carmen in the big living-room and the big bedroom of the
+house by the mill, where was the comfortable four-poster which had come
+from the mansion of the last Baron of Beaugard down by St. Laurent.
+
+Three days after the shipwreck of the Antoine, and as soon as sufficient
+finery could be got in Quebec, it was accomplished, the fate of Jean
+Jacques. How proud he was to open his cheque-book before the young
+Spanish maid, and write in cramped, characteristic hand a cheque for
+a hundred dollars or so at a time! A moiety of this money was given
+to Sebastian Dolores, who could scarcely believe his good fortune. A
+situation was got for him by the help of a good abbe at Quebec, who
+was touched by the tale of the wreck of the Antoine, and by the no less
+wonderful tale of the refugees of Spain, who naturally belonged to the
+true faith which "feared God and honoured the King." Sebastian Dolores
+was grateful for the post offered him, though he would rather have gone
+to St. Saviour's with his daughter, for he had lost the gift of work,
+and he desired peace after war. In other words, he had that fatal trait
+of those who strive to make the world better by talk and violence, the
+vice of indolence.
+
+But when Jean Jacques and his handsome bride started for St. Saviour's,
+the new father-in-law did not despair of following soon. He would
+greatly have enjoyed the festivities which, after all, did follow the
+home-coming of Jean Jacques Barbille and his Spanische; for while they
+lacked enthusiasm because Carmen was a foreigner, the romance of the
+story gave the whole proceedings a spirit and interest which spread into
+adjoining parishes: so that people came to mass from forty miles away to
+see the pair who had been saved from the sea.
+
+And when the Quebec newspapers found their way into the parish, with a
+thrilling account of the last hours of the Antoine; and of Jean Jacques'
+chivalrous act in refusing to enter a boat to save himself, though he
+was such a bad swimmer and was in danger of cramp; and how he sang Bal
+chez Boule while the men worked at the pumps; they permitted the apres
+noces of M'sieu' and Madame Jean Jacques Barbille to be as brilliant
+as could be, with the help of lively improvisation. Even speech-making
+occurred again in an address of welcome some days later. This was
+followed by a feast of Spanish cakes and meats made by the hands of
+Carmen Dolores, "the lady saved from the sea"--as they called her; not
+knowing that she had saved herself, and saved Jean Jacques as well. It
+was not quite to Jean Jacques' credit that he did not set this error
+right, and tell the world the whole exact truth.
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII. THE MAN FROM OUTSIDE
+
+          "Oh, who will walk the wood with me,
+          I fear to walk alone;
+          So young am I, as you may see;
+          No dangers have I known.
+          So young, so small--ah, yes, m'sieu',
+          I'll walk the wood with you!"
+
+In the last note of the song applause came instantaneously, almost
+impatiently, as it might seem. With cries of "Encore! Encore!" it lasted
+some time, while the happy singer looked around with frank pleasure on
+the little group encircling her in the Manor Cartier.
+
+"Did you like it so much?" she asked in a general way, and not looking
+at any particular person. A particular person, however, replied, and she
+had addressed the question to him, although not looking at him. He was
+the Man from Outside, and he sat near the bright wood-fire; for though
+it was almost June the night was cool and he was delicate.
+
+"Ah, but splendid, but splendid--it got into every corner of every one
+of us," the Man from Outside responded, speaking his fluent French with
+a slight English accent, which had a pleasant piquancy--at least to the
+ears of the pretty singer, Mdlle. Zoe Barbille. He was a man of
+about thirty-three, clean-shaven, dark-haired, with an expression of
+cleverness; yet with an irresponsible something about him which M.
+Fille had reflected upon with concern. For this slim, eager, talkative,
+half-invalid visitor to St. Saviour's had of late shown a marked liking
+for the presence and person of Zoe Barbille; and Zoe was as dear to M.
+Fille as though she were his own daughter. He it was who, in sarcasm,
+had spoken of this young stranger as "The Man from Outside."
+
+Ever since Zoe's mother had vanished--alone--seven years before from the
+Manor Cartier, or rather from his office at Vilray, M. Fille had been
+as much like a maiden aunt or a very elder brother to the Spanische's
+daughter as a man could be. Of M. Fille's influence over his daughter
+and her love of his companionship, Jean Jacques had no jealousy
+whatever. Very often indeed, when he felt incompetent to do for his
+child all that he wished--philosophers are often stupid in human
+affairs--he thought it was a blessing Zoe had a friend like M. Fille.
+Since the terrible day when he found that his wife had gone from
+him--not with the master-carpenter who only made his exit from Laplatte
+some years afterwards--he had had no desire to have a woman at the Manor
+to fill her place, even as housekeeper. He had never swerved from
+that. He had had a hard row to hoe, but he had hoed it with a will not
+affected by domestic accidents or inconveniences. The one woman from
+outside whom he permitted to go and come at will--and she did not
+come often, because she and M. Fille agreed it would be best not to do
+so--was the sister of the Cure. To be sure there was Seraphe Corniche,
+the old cook, but she was buried in her kitchen, and Jean Jacques
+treated her like a man.
+
+When Zoe was confirmed, and had come back from Montreal, having spent
+two years in a convent there--the only time she had been away from her
+father in seven years--having had her education chiefly from a Catholic
+"brother," the situation developed in a new way. Zoe at once became
+as conspicuous in the country-side as her father had been over so many
+years. She was fresh, volatile, without affectation or pride, and had
+a temperament responsive to every phase of life's simple interests. She
+took the attention of the young men a little bit as her due, but yet
+without conceit. The gallants had come about her like bees, for there
+was Jean Jacques' many businesses and his reputation for wealth; and
+there was her own charm, concerning which there could be far less doubt
+than about Jean Jacques' magnificent solvency.
+
+Zoe had gone heart-whole and with no especial preference for any young
+man, until the particular person came, the Man from Outside.
+
+His name was Gerard Fynes, and his business was mumming. He was a young
+lawyer turned actor, and he had lived in Montreal before he went on the
+stage. He was English--that was a misfortune; he was an actor--that was
+a greater misfortune, for it suggested vagabondage of morals as well
+as of profession; and he was a Protestant, which was the greatest
+misfortune of all. But he was only at St. Saviour's for his
+convalescence after a so-called attack of congestion of the lungs; and
+as he still had a slight cough and looked none too robust, and as, more
+than all, he was simple in his ways, enjoying the life of the parish
+with greater zest than the residents, he found popularity. Undoubtedly
+he had a taking way with him. He was lodging with Louis Charron, a
+small farmer and kinsman of Jean Jacques, who sold whisky--"white
+whisky"--without a license. It was a Charron family habit to sell
+liquor illegally, and Louis pursued the career with all an amateur's
+enthusiasm. He had a sovereign balm for "colds," composed of camomile
+flowers, boneset, liquorice, pennyroyal and gentian root, which he sold
+to all comers; and it was not unnatural that a visitor with weak lungs
+should lodge with him.
+
+Louis and his wife had only good things to say about Gerard Fynes; for
+the young man lived their life as though he was born to it. He ate the
+slap-jacks, the buttermilk-pop, the pork and beans, the Indian corn on
+the cob, the pea-soup, and the bread baked in the roadside oven, with a
+relish which was not all pretence; for indeed he was as primitive as he
+was subtle. He himself could not have told how much of him was true and
+how much was make-believe. But he was certainly lovable, and he was not
+bad by nature. Since coming to St. Saviour's he had been constant to one
+attraction, and he had not risked his chances with Zoe by response to
+the shy invitations of dark eyes, young and not so young, which met his
+own here and there in the parish.
+
+Only M. Fille and Jean Jacques himself had feelings of real antagonism
+to him. Jean Jacques, though not naturally suspicious, had, however,
+seen an understanding look pass between his Zoe and this stranger--this
+Protestant English stranger from the outer world, to which Jean Jacques
+went less frequently since his fruitless search for his vanished Carmen.
+The Clerk of the Court saw that Jean Jacques had observed the intimate
+glances of the two young people, and their eyes met in understanding. It
+was just before Zoe had sung so charmingly, 'Oh, Who Will Walk the Wood
+With Me'.
+
+At first after Carmen's going Jean Jacques had found it hard to endure
+singing in his house. Zoe's trilling was torture to him, though he had
+never forbidden her to sing, and she had sung on to her heart's content.
+By a subtle instinct, however, and because of the unspoken sorrow in her
+own heart, she never sang the songs like 'La Manola'. Never after the
+day Carmen went did Zoe speak of her mother to anyone at all. It was
+worse than death; it was annihilation, so far as speech was concerned.
+The world at large only knew that Carmen Barbille had run away, and that
+even Sebastian Dolores her father did not know where she was. The old
+man had not heard from her, and he seldom visited at the Manor Cartier
+or saw his grand-daughter. His own career of late years had been marked
+by long sojourns in Quebec, Montreal and even New York; yet he always
+came back to St. Saviour's when he was penniless, and was there started
+afresh by Jean Jacques. Some said that Carmen had gone back to Spain,
+but others discredited that, for, if she had done so, certainly old
+Sebastian Dolores would have gone also. Others continued to insist that
+she had gone off with a man; but there was George Masson at Laplatte
+living alone, and never going twenty miles away from home, and he was
+the only person under suspicion. Others again averred that since her
+flight Carmen had become a loose woman in Montreal; but the New Cure
+came down on that with a blow which no one was tempted to invite again.
+
+M. Savry's method of punishing was of a kind to make men shrink. If
+Carmen Barbille had become a loose woman in Montreal, how did any member
+of his flock know that it was the case? What company had he kept in
+Montreal that he could say that? Did he see the woman--or did he hear
+about her? And if he heard, what sort of company was he keeping when he
+went to Montreal without his wife to hear such things? That was final,
+and the slanderer was under a cloud for a time, by reason of the anger
+of his own wife. It was about this time that the good priest preached
+from the text, "Judge not that ye be not judged," and said that there
+were only ten commandments on the tables of stone; but that the ten
+included all the commandments which the Church made for every man, and
+which every man, knowing his own weakness, must also make for himself.
+
+His flock understood, though they did refrain, every one, from looking
+towards the place where Jean Jacques sat with Ma'm'selle--she was always
+called that, as though she was a great lady; or else she was called "the
+little Ma'm'selle Zoe," even when she had grown almost as tall as her
+mother had been.
+
+Though no one looked towards the place where Jean Jacques and his
+daughter sat when this sermon was preached, and although Zoe seemed not
+to apprehend personal reference in the priest's words, when she reached
+home, after talking to her father about casual things all the way, she
+flew to her room, and, locking the door, flung herself on her bed and
+cried till her body felt as though it had been beaten by rods. Then
+she suddenly got up and, from a drawer, took out two things--an old
+photograph of her mother at the time of her marriage, and Carmen's
+guitar, which she had made her own on the day after the flight, and had
+kept hidden ever since. She lay on the bed with her cheek pressed to
+the guitar, and her eyes hungrily feeding on the face of a woman whose
+beauty belonged to spheres other than where she had spent the thirteen
+years of her married life.
+
+Zoe had understood more even at the time of the crisis than they thought
+she did, child though she was; and as the years had gone on she had
+grasped the meaning of it all more clearly perhaps than anyone at all
+except her adored friends Judge Carcasson, at whose home she had visited
+in Montreal, and M. Fille.
+
+The thing last rumoured about her mother in the parish was that she
+had become an actress. To this Zoe made no protest in her mind. It was
+better than many other possibilities, and she fixed her mind on it, so
+saving herself from other agonizing speculations. In a fixed imagination
+lay safety. In her soul she knew that, no matter what happened, her
+mother would never return to the Manor Cartier.
+
+The years had not deepened confidence between father and daughter. A
+shadow hung between them. They laughed and talked together, were even
+boisterous in their fun sometimes, and yet in the eyes of both was the
+forbidden thing--the deserted city into which they could not enter. He
+could not speak to the child of the shame of her mother; she could not
+speak of that in him which had contributed to that mother's shame--the
+neglect which existed to some degree in her own life with him. This
+was chiefly so because his enterprises had grown to such a number and
+height, that he seemed ever to be counting them, ever struggling to the
+height, while none of his ventures ever reached that state of success
+when it "ran itself", although as years passed men called him rich,
+and he spent and loaned money so freely that they called him the Money
+Master, or the Money Man Wise, in deference to his philosophy.
+
+Zoe was not beautiful, but there was a wondrous charm in her deep
+brown eyes and in the expression of her pretty, if irregular, features.
+Sometimes her face seemed as small as that of a young child, and alive
+with eerie fancies; and always behind her laughter was something which
+got into her eyes, giving them a haunting melancholy. She had no signs
+of hysteria, though now and then there came heart-breaking little
+outbursts of emotion which had this proof that they were not
+hysteria--they were never seen by others. They were sacred to her own
+solitude. While in Montreal she had tasted for the first time the joys
+of the theatre, and had then secretly read numbers of plays, which she
+bought from an old bookseller, who was wise enough to choose them for
+her. She became possessed of a love for the stage even before Gerard
+Fynes came upon the scene. The beginning of it all was the rumour that
+her mother was now an actress; yet the root-cause was far down in a
+temperament responsive to all artistic things.
+
+The coming of the Man from Outside acted on the confined elements of
+her nature like the shutter of a camera. It let in a world of light upon
+unexplored places, it set free elements of being which had not before
+been active. She had been instantly drawn to Gerard Fynes. He had the
+distance from her own life which provoked interest, and in that distance
+was the mother whom perhaps it was her duty to forget, yet for whom she
+had a longing which grew greater as the years went on.
+
+Gerard Fynes could talk well, and his vivid pictures of his short
+play-acting career absorbed her; and all the time she was vigilant for
+some name, for the description of some actress which would seem to be
+a clue to the lost spirit of her life. This clue never came, but before
+she gave up hope of it, the man had got nearer to her than any man had
+ever done.
+
+After meeting him she awoke to the fact that there was a difference
+between men, that it was not the same thing to be young as to be old;
+that the reason why she could kiss the old Judge and the little Clerk of
+the Court, and not kiss, say, the young manager of the great lumber firm
+who came every year for a fortnight's fishing at St. Saviour's, was
+one which had an understandable cause and was not a mere matter of
+individual taste. She had been good friends with this young manager, who
+was only thirty years of age, and was married, but when he had wanted
+to kiss her on saying good-bye one recent summer, she had said, "Oh,
+no, oh, no, that would spoil it all!" Yet when he had asked her why, and
+what she meant, she could not tell him. She did not know; but by the
+end of the first week after Gerard Fynes had been brought to the Manor
+Cartier by Louis Charron, she knew.
+
+She had then been suddenly awakened from mere girlhood. Judge Carcasson
+saw the difference in her on a half-hour's visit as he passed westward,
+and he had said to M. Fille, "Who is the man, my keeper of the
+treasure?" The reply had been of such a sort that the Judge was
+startled:
+
+"Tut, tut," he had exclaimed, "an actor--an actor once a lawyer! That's
+serious. She's at an age--and with a temperament like hers she'll
+believe anything, if once her affections are roused. She has a flair for
+the romantic, for the thing that's out of reach--the bird on the highest
+branch, the bird in the sky beyond ours, the song that was lost before
+time was, the light that never was on sea or land. Why, damn it, damn it
+all, my Solon, here's the beginning of a case in Court unless we can lay
+the fellow by the heels! How long is he here for?"
+
+When M. Fille had told him that he would stay for another month for
+certain, and no doubt much longer, if there seemed a prospect of winning
+the heiress of the Manor Cartier, the Judge gave a groan.
+
+"We must get him away, somehow," he said. "Where does he stay?"
+
+"At the house of Louis Charron," was the reply. "Louis Charron--isn't he
+the fellow that sells whisky without a license?"
+
+"It is so, monsieur."
+
+The Judge moved his head from side to side like a bear in a cage. "It
+is that, is it, my Fille? By the thumb of the devil, isn't it time then
+that Louis Charron was arrested for breaking the law? Also how do we
+know but that the interloping fellow Fynes is an agent for a whisky firm
+perhaps? Couldn't he, then, on suspicion, be arrested with--"
+
+The Clerk of the Court shook his head mournfully. His Judge was surely
+becoming childish in his old age. He looked again closely at the great
+man, and saw a glimmer of moisture in the grey eyes. It was clear that
+Judge Carcasson felt deeply the dangers of the crisis, and that the
+futile outburst had merely been the agitated protest of the helpless.
+
+"The man is what he says he is--an actor; and it would be folly to
+arrest him. If our Zoe is really fond of him, it would only make a
+martyr of him."
+
+As he made this reply M. Fille looked furtively at the other--out of
+the corner of his eye, as it were. The reply of the Judge was
+impatient, almost peevish and rough. "Did you think I was in earnest,
+my punchinello? Surely I don't look so young as all that. I am over
+sixty-five, and am therefore mentally developed!"
+
+M. Fille was exactly sixty-five years of age, and the blow was a shrewd
+one. He drew himself up with rigid dignity.
+
+"You must feel sorry sometimes for those who suffered when your mind was
+undeveloped, monsieur," he answered. "You were a judge at forty-nine,
+and you defended poor prisoners for twenty years before that."
+
+The Judge was conquered, and he was never the man to pretend he was not
+beaten when he was. He admired skill too much for that. He squeezed M.
+Fille's arm and said:
+
+"I've been quick with my tongue myself, but I feel sure now, that it's
+through long and close association with my Clerk of the Court."
+
+"Ah, monsieur, you are so difficult to understand!" was the reply. "I
+have known you all these years, and yet--"
+
+"And yet you did not know how much of the woman there was in me!...
+But yes, it is that. It is that which I fear with our Zoe. Women break
+out--they break out, and then there is the devil to pay. Look at her
+mother. She broke out. It was not inevitable. It was the curse of
+opportunity, the wrong thing popping up to drive her mad at the wrong
+moment. Had the wrong thing come at the right time for her, when she was
+quite sane, she would be yonder now with our philosopher. Perhaps she
+would not be contented if she were there, but she would be there; and
+as time goes on, to be where we were in all things which concern the
+affections, that is the great matter."
+
+"Ah, yes, ah, yes," was the bright-eyed reply of that Clerk, "there is
+no doubt of that! My sister and I there, we are fifty years together,
+never with the wrong thing at the wrong time, always the thing as it
+was, always to be where we were."
+
+The Judge shook his head. "There is an eternity of difference, Fille,
+between the sister and brother and the husband and wife. The sacredness
+of isolation is the thing which holds the brother and sister together.
+The familiarity of--but never mind what it is that so often forces
+husband and wife apart. It is there, and it breaks out in rebellion as
+it did with the wife of Jean Jacques Barbille. As she was a strong woman
+in her way, it spoiled her life, and his too when it broke out."
+
+M. Fille's face lighted with memory and feeling. "Ah, a woman of
+powerful emotions, monsieur, that is so! I think I never told you, but
+at the last, in my office, when she went, she struck George Masson in
+the face. It was a blow that--but there it was; I have never liked to
+think of it. When I do, I shudder. She was a woman who might have been
+in other circumstances--but there!"
+
+The Judge suddenly stopped in his walk and faced round on his friend.
+"Did you ever know, my Solon," he said, "that it was not Jean Jacques
+who saved Carmen at the wreck of the Antoine, but it was she who saved
+him; and yet she never breathed of it in all the years. One who was
+saved from the Antoine told me of it. Jean Jacques was going down.
+Carmen gave him her piece of wreckage to hang on to, and swam ashore
+without help. He never gave her the credit. There was something big in
+the woman, but it did not come out right."
+
+M. Fille threw up his hands. "Grace de Dieu, is it so that she saved
+Jean Jacques? Then he would not be here if it had not been for her?"
+
+"That is the obvious deduction, Maitre Fille," replied the Judge.
+
+The Clerk of the Court seemed moved. "He did not treat her ill. I
+know that he would take her back to-morrow if he could. He has never
+forgotten. I saw him weeping one day--it was where she used to sing to
+the flax-beaters by the Beau Cheval. I put my hand on his shoulder, and
+said, 'I know, I comprehend; but be a philosopher, Jean Jacques.'"
+
+"What did he say?" asked the Judge.
+
+"He drew himself up. 'In my mind, in my soul, I am philosopher always,'
+he said, 'but my eyes are the windows of my heart, m'sieu'. They look
+out and see the sorrow of one I loved. It is for her sorrow that I weep,
+not for my own. I have my child, I have money; the world says to me,
+"How goes it, my friend?" I have a home--a home; but where is she, and
+what does the world say to her?'"
+
+The Judge shook his head sadly. "I used to think I knew life, but I come
+to the belief in the end that I know nothing. Who could have guessed
+that he would have spoken like that!"
+
+"He forgave her, monsieur."
+
+The Judge nodded mournfully. "Yes, yes, but I used to think it is such
+men who forgive one day and kill the next. You never can tell where they
+will explode, philosophy or no philosophy."
+
+The Judge was right. After all the years that had passed since his wife
+had left him, Jean Jacques did explode. It was the night of his birthday
+party at which was present the Man from Outside. It was in the hour when
+he first saw what the Clerk of the Court had seen some time before--the
+understanding between Zoe and Gerard Fynes. It had never occurred to him
+that there was any danger. Zoe had been so indifferent to the young men
+of St. Saviour's and beyond, had always been so much his friend and the
+friend of those much older than himself, like Judge Carcasson and M.
+Fille, that he had not yet thought of her electing to go and leave him
+alone.
+
+To leave him alone! To be left alone--it had never become a possibility
+to his mind. It did not break upon him with its full force all at once.
+He first got the glimmer of it, then the glimmer grew to a glow, and the
+glow to a great red light, in which his brain became drunk, and all his
+philosophy was burned up like wood-shavings in a fiery furnace.
+
+"Did you like it so much?" Zoe had asked when her song was finished, and
+the Man from Outside had replied, "Ah, but splendid, splendid! It got
+into every corner of every one of us."
+
+"Into the senses--why not into the heart? Songs are meant for the
+heart," said Zoe.
+
+"Yes, yes, certainly," was the young man's reply, "but it depends upon
+the song whether it touches the heart more than the senses. Won't you
+sing that perfect thing, 'La Claire Fontaine'?" he added, with eyes as
+bright as passion and the hectic fires of his lung-trouble could make
+them.
+
+She nodded and was about to sing, for she loved the song, and it had
+been ringing in her head all day; but at that point M. Fille rose, and
+with his glass raised high--for at that moment Seraphe Corniche and
+another carried round native wine and cider to the company--he said:
+
+"To Monsieur Jean Jacques Barbille, and his fifty years, good
+health--bonne sante! This is his birthday. To a hundred years for Jean
+Jacques!"
+
+Instantly everyone was up with glass raised, and Zoe ran and threw her
+arms round her father's neck. "Kiss me before you drink," she said.
+
+With a touch almost solemn in its tenderness Jean Jacques drew her head
+to his shoulder and kissed her hair, then her forehead. "My blessed
+one--my angel," he whispered; but there was a look in his eyes which
+only M. Fille had seen there before. It was the look which had been in
+his eyes at the flax-beaters' place by the river.
+
+"Sing--father, you must sing," said Zoe, and motioned to the fiddler.
+"Sing It's Fifty Years," she cried eagerly. They all repeated her
+request, and he could but obey.
+
+Jean Jacques' voice was rather rough, but he had some fine resonant
+notes in it, and presently, with eyes fastened on the distance, and
+with free gesture and much expression, he sang the first verse of the
+haunting ballad of the man who had reached his fifty years:
+
+          "Wherefore these flowers?
+          This fete for me?
+          Ah, no, it is not fifty years,
+          Since in my eyes the light you see
+          First shone upon life's joys and tears!
+          How fast the heedless days have flown
+          Too late to wail the misspent hours,
+          To mourn the vanished friends I've known,
+          To kneel beside love's ruined bowers.
+          Ah, have I then seen fifty years,
+          With all their joys and hopes and fears!"
+
+Through all the verses he ranged, his voice improving with each phrase,
+growing more resonant, till at last it rang out with a ragged richness
+which went home to the hearts of all. He was possessed. All at once he
+was conscious that the beginning of the end of things was come for
+him; and that now, at fifty, in no sphere had he absolutely "arrived,"
+neither in home nor fortune, nor--but yes, there was one sphere of
+success; there was his fatherhood. There was his daughter, his wonderful
+Zoe. He drew his eyes from the distance, and saw that her ardent look
+was not towards him, but towards one whom she had known but a few weeks.
+
+Suddenly he stopped in the middle of a verse, and broke forward with
+his arms outstretched, laughing. He felt that he must laugh, or he would
+cry; and that would be a humiliating thing to do.
+
+"Come, come, my friends, my children, enough of that!" he cried. "We'll
+have no more maundering. Fifty years--what are fifty years! Think of
+Methuselah! It's summer in the world still, and it's only spring at
+St. Saviour's. It's the time of the first flowers. Let's dance--no, no,
+never mind the Cure to-night! He will not mind. I'll settle it with him.
+We'll dance the gay quadrille."
+
+He caught the hands of the two youngest girls present, and nodded at the
+fiddler, who at once began to tune his violin afresh. One of the joyous
+young girls, however, began to plead with him.
+
+"Ah, no, let us dance, but at the last--not yet, M'sieu' Jean Jacques!
+There is Zoe's song, we must have that, and then we must have charades.
+Here is M'sieu' Fynes--he can make splendid charades for us. Then the
+dance at the last--ah, yes, yes, M'sieu' Jean Jacques! Let it be like
+that. We all planned it, and though it is your birthday, it's us are
+making the fete."
+
+"As you will then, as you will, little ones," Jean Jacques acquiesced
+with a half-sigh; but he did not look at his daughter. Somehow,
+suddenly, a strange constraint possessed him where Zoe was concerned.
+"Then let us have Zoe's song; let us have 'La Claire Fontaine'," cried
+the black-eyed young madcap who held Jean Jacques' arms.
+
+But Zoe interrupted. "No, no," she protested, "the singing spell is
+broken. We will have the song after the charades--after the charades."
+
+"Good, good--after the charades!" they all cried, for there would be
+charades like none which had ever been played before, with a real actor
+to help them, to carry them through as they did on the stage. To them
+the stage was compounded of mystery, gaiety and the forbidden.
+
+So, for the next half-hour they were all at the disposal of the Man from
+Outside, who worked as though it was a real stage, and they were real
+players, and there were great audiences to see them. It was all quite
+wonderful, and it involved certain posings, attitudes, mimicry and
+pantomime, for they were really ingenious charades.
+
+So it happened that Zoe's fingers often came in touch with those of
+the stage-manager, that his hands touched her shoulders, that his cheek
+brushed against her dark hair once, and that she had sensations never
+experienced before. Why was it that she thrilled when she came near to
+him, that her whole body throbbed and her heart fluttered when their
+shoulders or arms touched? Her childlike nature, with all its warmth and
+vibration of life, had never till now felt the stir of sex in its vital
+sense. All men had in one way been the same to her; but now she realized
+that there was a world-wide difference between her Judge Carcasson, her
+little Clerk of the Court, and this young man whose eyes drank hers. She
+had often been excited, even wildly agitated, had been like a sprite let
+loose in quiet ways; but that was mere spirit. Here was body and senses
+too; here was her whole being alive to a music, which had an aching
+sweetness and a harmony coaxing every sense into delight.
+
+"To-morrow evening, by the flume, where the beechtrees are--come--at
+six. I want to speak with you. Will you come?"
+
+Thus whispered the maker of this music of the senses, who directed the
+charades, but who was also directing the course of another life than his
+own.
+
+"Yes, if I can," was Zoe's whispered reply, and the words shook as she
+said them; for she felt that their meeting in the beech-trees by the
+flume would be of consequence beyond imagination.
+
+Judge Carcasson had always said that Zoe had judgment beyond her years;
+M. Fille had remarked often that she had both prudence and shrewdness as
+well as a sympathetic spirit; but M. Fille's little whispering sister,
+who could never be tempted away from her home to any house, to whom the
+market and the church were like pilgrimages to distant wilds, had said
+to her brother:
+
+"Wait, Armand--wait till Zoe is waked, and then prudence and wisdom will
+be but accident. If all goes well, you will see prudence and wisdom; but
+if it does not, you will see--ah, but just Zoe!"
+
+The now alert Jean Jacques had seen the whispering of the two, though he
+did not know what had been said. It was, however, something secret, and
+if it was secret, then it was--yes, it was love; and love between his
+daughter and that waif of the world--the world of the stage--in which
+men and women were only grown-up children, and bad grown-up children at
+that--it was not to be endured. One thing was sure, the man should come
+to the Manor Cartier no more. He would see to that to-morrow. There
+would be no faltering or paltering on his part. His home had been shaken
+to its foundations once, and he was determined that it should not fall
+about his ears a second time. An Englishman, an actor, a Protestant, and
+a renegade lawyer! It was not to be endured.
+
+The charade now being played was the best of the evening. One of the
+madcap friends of Zoe was to be a singing-girl. She was supposed to
+carry a tambourine. When her turn to enter came, with a look of mischief
+and a gay dancing step, she ran into the room. In her hands was a
+guitar, not a tambourine. When Zoe saw the guitar she gave a cry.
+
+"Where did you get that?" she asked in a low, shocked, indignant voice.
+
+"In your room--your bedroom," was the half-frightened answer. "I saw it
+on the dresser, and I took it."
+
+"Come, come, let's get on with the charade," urged the Man from Outside.
+
+On the instant's pause, in which Zoe looked at her lover almost
+involuntarily, and without fully understanding what he said, someone
+else started forward with a smothered exclamation--of anger, of horror,
+of dismay. It was Jean Jacques. He was suddenly transformed.
+
+His eyes were darkened by hideous memory, his face alight with passion.
+He caught from the girl's hands the guitar--Carmen's forgotten guitar
+which he had not seen for seven years--how well he knew it! With both
+hands he broke it across his knee. The strings, as they snapped, gave
+a shrill, wailing cry, like a voice stopped suddenly by death. Stepping
+jerkily to the fireplace he thrust it into the flame.
+
+"Ah, there!" he said savagely. "There--there!" When he turned round
+slowly again, his face--which he had never sought to control before
+he had his great Accident seven years ago--was under his command. A
+strange, ironic-almost sardonic-smile was on his lips.
+
+"It's in the play," he said.
+
+"No, it's not in the charade, Monsieur Barbille," said the Man from
+Outside fretfully.
+
+"That is the way I read it, m'sieu'," retorted Jean Jacques, and he made
+a motion to the fiddler.
+
+"The dance! The dance!" he exclaimed.
+
+But yet he looked little like a man who wished to dance, save upon a
+grave.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV. "I DO NOT WANT TO GO"
+
+It is a bad thing to call down a crisis in the night-time. A "scene" at
+midnight is a savage enemy of ultimate understanding, and that Devil,
+called Estrangement, laughs as he observes the objects of his attention
+in conflict when the midnight candle burns.
+
+He should have been seized with a fit of remorse, however, at the sight
+he saw in the Manor Cartier at midnight of the day when Jean Jacques
+Barbille had reached his fiftieth year. There is nothing which, for
+pathos and for tragedy, can compare with a struggle between the young
+and the old.
+
+The Devil of Estrangement when he sees it, may go away and indulge
+himself in sleep; for there will be no sleep for those who, one young
+and the other old, break their hearts on each other's anvils, when the
+lights are low and it is long till morning.
+
+When Jean Jacques had broken the forgotten guitar which his daughter had
+retrieved from her mother's life at the Manor Cartier (all else he had
+had packed and stored away in the flour-mill out of sight) and thrown it
+in the fire, there had begun a revolt in the girl's heart, founded on a
+sense of injustice, but which itself became injustice also; and that is
+a dark thing to come between those who love--even as parent and child.
+
+After her first exclamation of dismay and pain, Zoe had regained her
+composure, and during the rest of the evening she was full of feverish
+gaiety. Indeed her spirits and playful hospitality made the evening a
+success in spite of the skeleton at the feast. Jean Jacques had also
+roused himself, and, when the dance began, he joined in with spirit,
+though his face was worn and haggard even when lighted by his smile. But
+though the evening came to the conventional height of hilarity, there
+was a note running through it which made even the youngest look at each
+other, as though to say, "Now, what's going to happen next!"
+
+Three people at any rate knew that something was going to happen. They
+were Zoe, the Man from Outside and M. Fille. Zoe had had more than one
+revelation that night, and she felt again as she did one day, seven
+years before, when, coming home from over the hills, she had stepped
+into a house where Horror brooded as palpably as though it sat beside
+the fire, or hung above the family table. She had felt something as soon
+as she had entered the door that far-off day, though the house seemed
+empty. It was an emptiness which was filled with a torturing presence or
+torturing presenes. It had stilled her young heart. What was it? She
+had learned the truth soon enough. Out of the sunset had come her father
+with a face twisted with misery, and as she ran to him, he had caught
+her by both shoulders, looked through her eyes to something far beyond,
+and hoarsely said: "She is gone--gone from us! She has run away from
+home! Curse her baptism--curse it, curse it!"
+
+Zoe could never forget these last words she had ever heard her father
+speak of Carmen. They were words which would make any Catholic shudder
+to hear. It was a pity he had used them, for they made her think at last
+that her mother had been treated with injustice. This, in spite of the
+fact that in the days, now so far away, when her mother was with them
+she had ever been nearer to her father, and that, after first childhood,
+she and her mother were not so close as they had been, when she went to
+sleep to the humming of a chanson of Cadiz. Her own latent motherhood,
+however, kept stealing up out of the dim distances of childhood's
+ignorance and, with modesty and allusiveness, whispering knowledge in
+her ear. So it was that now she looked back pensively to the years she
+had spent within sight and sound of her handsome mother, and out of the
+hunger of her own spirit she had come to idealize her memory. It was
+good to have a loving father; but he was a man, and he was so busy just
+when she wanted--when she wanted she knew not what, but at least to go
+and lay her head on a heart that would understand what was her sorrow,
+her joy, or her longing.
+
+And now here at last was come Crisis, which showed its thunderous
+head in the gay dance, and shook his war-locks in the fire, where her
+mother's guitar had shrieked in its last agony.
+
+When all the guests had gone, when the bolts had been shot home, and old
+Seraphe Corniche had gone to bed, father and daughter came face to face.
+
+There was a moment's pause, as the two looked at each other, and then
+Zoe came up to Jean Jacques to kiss him good-night. It was her way of
+facing the issue. Instinctively she knew that he would draw back, and
+that the struggle would begin. It might almost seem that she had invited
+it; for she had let the Man from Outside hold her hand for far longer
+than courtesy required, while her father looked on with fretful
+eyes--even with a murmuring which was not a benediction. Indeed, he had
+evaded shaking hands with his hated visitor by suddenly offering him a
+cigar, and then in the doorway itself handing a lighted match.
+
+"His eminence, Cardinal Christophe, gave these cigars to me when he
+passed through St. Saviour's five years ago," Jean Jacques had remarked
+loftily, "and I always smoke one on my birthday. I am a good Catholic,
+and his eminence rested here for a whole day."
+
+He had had a grim pleasure in avoiding the handshake, and in having the
+Protestant outsider smoke the Catholic cigar! In his anger it seemed to
+him that he had done something worthy almost of the Vatican, indeed of
+the great Cardinal Christophe himself. Even in his moments of crisis,
+in his hours of real tragedy, in the times when he was shaken to the
+centre, Jean Jacques fancied himself more than a little. It was as
+the master-carpenter had remarked seven years before, he was always
+involuntarily saying, "Here I come--look at me. I am Jean Jacques
+Barbille!"
+
+When Zoe reached out a hand to touch his arm, and raised her face as
+though to kiss him good-night, Jean Jacques drew back.
+
+"Not yet, Zoe," he said. "There are some things--What is all this
+between you and that man?... I have seen. You must not forget who you
+are--the daughter of Jean Jacques Barbille, of the Manor Cartier, whose
+name is known in the whole province, who was asked to stand for the
+legislature. You are Zoe Barbille--Mademoiselle Zoe Barbille. We do not
+put on airs. We are kind to our neighbours, but I am descended from the
+Baron of Beaugard. I have a place--yes, a place in society; and it is
+for you to respect it. You comprehend?"
+
+Zoe flushed, but there was no hesitation whatever in her reply. "I am
+what I have always been, and it is not my fault that I am the daughter
+of M. Jean Jacques Barbille! I have never done anything which was not
+good enough for the Manor Cartier." She held her head firmly as she said
+it.
+
+Now Jean Jacques flushed, and he did hesitate in his reply. He hated
+irony in anyone else, though he loved it in himself, when heaven gave
+him inspiration thereto. He was in a state of tension, and was ready
+to break out, to be a force let loose--that is the way he would have
+expressed it; and he was faced by a new spirit in his daughter which
+would surely spring the mine, unless he secured peace by strategy. He
+had sense enough to feel the danger.
+
+He did not see, however, any course for diplomacy here, for she had
+given him his cue in her last words. As a pure logician he was bound to
+take it, though it might lead to drama of a kind painful to them both.
+
+"It is not good enough for the Manor Cartier that you go falling in love
+with a nobody from nowhere," he responded.
+
+"I am not falling in love," she rejoined.
+
+"What did you mean, then, by looking at him as you did; by whispering
+together; by letting him hold your hand when he left, and him looking at
+you as though he'd eat you up--without sugar!"
+
+"I said I was not falling in love," she persisted, quietly, but with
+characteristic boldness. "I am in love."
+
+"You are in love with him--with that interloper! Heaven of heavens, do
+you speak the truth? Answer me, Zoe Barbille."
+
+She bridled. "Certainly I will answer. Did you think I would let a man
+look at me as he did, that I would look at a man as I looked at him,
+that I would let him hold my hand as I did, if I did not love him? Have
+you ever seen me do it before?"
+
+Her voice was even and quiet--as though she had made up her mind on a
+course, and meant to carry it through to the end.
+
+"No, I never saw you look at a man like that, and everything is as you
+say, but--" his voice suddenly became uneven and higher--pitched and a
+little hoarse, "but he is English, he is an actor--only that; and he is
+a Protestant."
+
+"Only that?" she asked, for the tone of his voice was such as one would
+use in speaking of a toad or vermin, and she could not bear it. "Is it a
+disgrace to be any one of those things?"
+
+"The Barbilles have been here for two hundred years; they have been
+French Catholics since the time of"--he was not quite sure--"since the
+time of Louis XI.," he added at a venture, and then paused, overcome by
+his own rashness.
+
+"Yes, that is a long time," she said, "but what difference does it make?
+We are just what we are now, and as if there never had been a Baron of
+Beaugard. What is there against Gerard except that he is an actor, that
+he is English, and that he is a Protestant? Is there anything?"
+
+"Sacre, is it not enough? An actor, what is that--to pretend to be
+someone else and not to be yourself!"
+
+"It would be better for a great many people to be someone else rather
+than themselves--for nothing; and he does it for money."
+
+"For money! What money has he got? You don't know. None of us know.
+Besides, he's a Protestant, and he's English, and that ends it. There
+never has been an Englishman or a Protestant in the Barbille family, and
+it shan't begin at the Manor Cartier." Jean Jacques' voice was rising in
+proportion as he perceived her quiet determination. Here was something
+of the woman who had left him seven years ago--left this comfortable
+home of his to go to disgrace and exile, and God only knew what else!
+Here in this very room--yes, here where they now were, father and
+daughter, stood husband and wife that morning when he had his hand on
+the lever prepared to destroy the man who had invaded his home; who had
+cast a blight upon it, which remained after all the years; after he had
+done all a man could do to keep the home and the woman too. The woman
+had gone; the home remained with his daughter in it, and now again there
+was a fight for home and the woman. Memory reproduced the picture of the
+mother standing just where the daughter now stood, Carmen quiet and well
+in hand, and himself all shaken with weakness, and with all power gone
+out of him--even the power which rage and a murderous soul give.
+
+But yet this was different. There was no such shame here as had fallen
+on him seven years ago. But there was a shame after its kind; and if it
+were not averted, there was the end of the home, of the prestige, the
+pride and the hope of "M'sieu' Jean Jacques, philosophe."
+
+"What shall not begin here at the Manor Cartier?" she asked with burning
+cheek.
+
+"The shame--it shall not begin here."
+
+"What shame, father?"
+
+"Of marriage with a Protestant and an actor."
+
+"You will not let me marry him?" she persisted stubbornly.
+
+Her words seemed to shake him all to pieces. It was as though he was
+going through the older tragedy all over again. It had possessed him
+ever since the sight of Carmen's guitar had driven him mad three hours
+ago. He swayed to and fro, even as he did when his hand left the lever
+and he let the master-carpenter go free. It was indeed a philosopher
+under torture, a spirit rocking on its anchor. Just now she had put into
+words herself what, even in his fear, he had hoped had no place in her
+mind--marriage with the man. He did not know this daughter of his very
+well. There was that in her which was far beyond his ken. Thousands of
+miles away in Spain it had origin, and the stream of tendency came down
+through long generations, by courses unknown to him.
+
+"Marry him--you want to marry him!" he gasped. "You, my Zoe, want to
+marry that tramp of a Protestant!"
+
+Her eyes blazed in anger. Tramp--the man with the air of a young
+Alexander, with a voice like the low notes of the guitar thrown to the
+flames! Tramp!
+
+"If I love him I ought to marry him," she answered with a kind of
+calmness, however, though all her body was quivering. Suddenly she came
+close to her father, a great sympathy welled up in her eyes, and her
+voice shook.
+
+"I do not want to leave you, father, and I never meant to do so. I never
+thought of it as possible; but now it is different. I want to stay with
+you; but I want to go with him too."
+
+Presently as she seemed to weaken before him, he hardened. "You can't
+have both," he declared with as much sternness as was possible to him,
+and with a Norman wilfulness which was not strength. "You shall
+not marry an actor and a Protestant. You shall not marry a man like
+that--never--never--never. If you do, you will never have a penny of
+mine, and I will never--"
+
+"Oh, hush--Mother of Heaven, hush!" she cried. "You shall not put a
+curse on me too."
+
+"What curse?" he burst forth, passion shaking him. "You cursed my
+mother's baptism. It would be a curse to be told that you would see
+me no more, that I should be no more part of this home. There has been
+enough of that curse here.... Ah, why--why--" she added with a sudden
+rush of indignation, "why did you destroy the only thing I had of hers?
+It was all that was left--her guitar. I loved it so."
+
+All at once, with a cry of pain, she turned and ran to the
+door--entering on the staircase which led to her room. In the doorway
+she turned.
+
+"I can't help it. I can't help it, father. I love him--but I love you
+too," she cried. "I don't want to go--oh, I don't want to go! Why do
+you--?" her voice choked; she did not finish the sentence; or if she
+did, he could not hear.
+
+Then she opened the door wide, and disappeared into the darkness of
+the unlighted stairway, murmuring, "Pity--have pity on me, holy Mother,
+Vierge Marie!" Then the door closed behind her almost with a bang.
+
+After a moment of stupefied inaction Jean Jacques hurried over and
+threw open the door she had closed. "Zoe--little Zoe, come back and
+say good-night," he called. But she did not hear, for, with a burst of
+crying, she had hurried into her own room and shut and locked the door.
+
+It was a pity, a measureless pity, as Mary the Mother must have seen,
+if she could see mortal life at all, that Zoe did not hear him. It might
+have altered the future. As it was, the Devil of Estrangement might well
+be content with his night's work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV. BON MARCHE
+
+Vilray was having its market day, and everyone was either going to or
+coming from market, or buying and selling in the little square by
+the Court House. It was the time when the fruits were coming in, when
+vegetables were in full yield, when fish from the Beau Cheval were to be
+had in plenty--from mud-cats and suckers, pike and perch, to rock-bass,
+sturgeon and even maskinonge. Also it was the time of year when butter
+and eggs, chickens and ducks were so cheap that it was a humiliation
+not to buy. There were other things on sale also, not for eating
+and drinking, but for wear and household use--from pots and pans to
+rag-carpets and table-linen, from woollen yarn to pictures of the Virgin
+and little calvaries.
+
+These were side by side with dried apples, bottled fruits, jars of maple
+syrup, and cordials of so generous and penetrating a nature that the
+currant and elderberry wine by which they were flanked were tipple for
+babes beside them. Indeed, when a man wanted to forget himself quickly
+he drank one of these cordials, in preference to the white whisky so
+commonly imbibed in the parishes. But the cordials being expensive, they
+were chiefly bought for festive occasions like a wedding, a funeral, a
+confirmation, or the going away of some young man or young woman to
+the monastery or the convent to forget the world. Meanwhile, if these
+spiritual argonauts drank it, they were likely to forget the world on
+the way to their voluntary prisons. It was very seldom that a man or
+woman bought the cordials for ordinary consumption, and when that was
+done, it would almost make a parish talk! Yet cordials of nice brown,
+of delicate green, of an enticing yellow colour, were here for sale
+at Vilray market on the morning after the painful scene at the Manor
+Cartier between Zoe and her father.
+
+The market-place was full--fuller than it had been for many a day. A
+great many people were come in as much to "make fete" as to buy and
+sell. It was a saint's day, and the bell of St. Monica's had been
+ringing away cheerfully twice that morning. To it the bell of the Court
+House had made reply, for a big case was being tried in the court. It
+was a river-driving and lumber case for which many witnesses had
+been called; and there were all kinds of stray people in the
+place--red-shirted river-drivers, a black-coated Methodist minister from
+Chalfonte, clerks from lumber-firms, and foremen of lumber-yards; and
+among these was one who greatly loved such a day as this when he could
+be free from work, and celebrate himself!
+
+Other people might celebrate saints dead and gone, and drink to 'La
+Patrie', and cry "Vive Napoleon!" or "Vive la Republique!" or "Vive la
+Reine!" though this last toast of the Empire was none too common--but he
+could only drink with real sincerity to the health of Sebastian Dolores,
+which was himself. Sebastian Dolores was the pure anarchist, the most
+complete of monomaniacs.
+
+"Here comes the father of the Spanische," remarked Mere Langlois, who
+presided over a heap of household necessities, chiefly dried fruits,
+preserves and pickles, as Sebastian Dolores appeared not far away.
+
+"Good-for-nothing villain! I pity the poor priest that confesses him."
+
+"Who is the Spanische?" asked a young woman from her own stall or stand
+very near, as she involuntarily arranged her hair and adjusted her
+waist-belt; for the rakish-looking reprobate, with the air of having
+been somewhere, was making towards them; and she was young enough to
+care how she looked when a man, who took notice, was near. Her own
+husband had been a horse-doctor, farmer, and sportsman of a kind, and
+she herself was now a farmer of a kind; and she had only resided in the
+parish during the three years since she had been married to, and buried,
+Palass Poucette.
+
+Old Mere Langlois looked at her companion in merchanting irritably, then
+she remembered that Virginie Poucette was a stranger, in a way, and was
+therefore deserving of pity, and she said with compassionate patronage:
+"Newcomer you--I'd forgotten. Look you then, the Spanische was the wife
+of my third cousin, M'sieu' Jean Jacques, and--"
+
+Virginie Poucette nodded, and the slight frown cleared from her low yet
+shapely forehead. "Yes, yes, of course I know. I've heard enough. What
+a fool she was, and M'sieu' Jean Jacques so rich and kind and
+good-looking! So this is her father--well, well, well!"
+
+Palass Poucette's widow leaned forward, and looked intently at Sebastian
+Dolores, who had stopped near by, and facing a couple of barrels on
+which were exposed some bottles of cordial and home-made wine. He
+was addressing himself with cheerful words to the dame that owned the
+merchandise.
+
+"I suppose you think it's a pity Jean Jacques can't get a divorce,"
+said Mere Langlois, rather spitefully to Virginie, for she had her
+sex's aversion to widows who had had their share of mankind, and were
+afterwards free to have someone else's share as well. But suddenly
+repenting, for Virginie was a hard-working widow who had behaved
+very well for an outsider--having come from Chalfonte beyond the Beau
+Chevalshe added: "But if he was a Protestant and could get a divorce,
+and you did marry him, you'd make him have more sense than he's got;
+for you've a quiet sensible way, and you've worked hard since Palass
+Poucette died."
+
+"Where doesn't he show sense, that M'sieu' Jean Jacques?" the younger
+woman asked.
+
+"Where? Why, with his girl--with Ma'm'selle." "Everybody I ever heard
+speaks well of Ma'm'selle Zoe," returned the other warmly, for she had
+a very generous mind and a truthful, sentimental heart. Mere Langlois
+sniffed, and put her hands on her hips, for she had a daughter of her
+own; also she was a relation of Jean Jacques, and therefore resented in
+one way the difference in their social position, while yet she plumed
+herself on being kin.
+
+"Then you'll learn something now you never knew before," she said.
+"She's been carrying on--there's no other word for it--with an actor
+fellow--"
+
+"Yes, yes, I did hear about him--a Protestant and an Englishman."
+
+"Well, then, why do you pretend you don't know--only to hear me talk, is
+it? Take my word, I'd teach cousin Zoe a lesson with all her education
+and her two years at the convent. Wasn't it enough that her mother
+should spoil everything for Jean Jacques, and make the Manor Cartier
+a place to point the finger at, without her bringing disgrace on the
+parish too! What happened last night--didn't I hear this morning before
+I had my breakfast! Didn't I--"
+
+She then proceeded to describe the scene in which Jean Jacques had
+thrown the wrecked guitar of his vanished spouse into the fire. Before
+she had finished, however, something occurred which swept them into
+another act of the famous history of Jean Jacques Barbille and his
+house.
+
+She had arrived at the point where Zoe had cried aloud in pain at her
+father's incendiary act, when there was a great stir at the Court House
+door which opened on the market-place, and vagrant cheers arose.
+These were presently followed by a more disciplined fusillade; which
+presently, in turn, was met by hisses and some raucous cries of
+resentment. These increased as a man appeared on the steps of the Court
+House, looked round for a moment in a dazed kind of way, then seeing
+some friends below who were swarming towards him, gave a ribald cry, and
+scrambled down the steps towards them.
+
+He was the prisoner whose release had suddenly been secured by a
+piece of evidence which had come as a thunder-clap on judge and jury.
+Immediately after giving this remarkable evidence the witness--Sebastian
+Dolores--had left the court-room. He was now engaged in buying cordials
+in the market-place--in buying and drinking them; for he had pulled the
+cork out of a bottle filled with a rich yellow liquid, and had drained
+half the bottle at a gulp. Presently he offered the remainder to a
+passing carter, who made a gesture of contempt and passed on, for, to
+him, white whisky was the only drink worth while. Besides, he disliked
+Sebastian Dolores. Then, with a flourish, the Spaniard tendered the
+bottle to Madame Langlois and Palass Poucette's widow, at whose corner
+of merchandise he had now arrived.
+
+Surely there never was a more benign villain and perjurer in the world
+than Sebastian Dolores! His evidence, given a half-hour before, with
+every sign of truthfulness, was false. The man--Rocque Valescure--for
+whom he gave it was no friend of his; but he owned a tavern called "The
+Red Eagle," a few miles from the works where the Spaniard was employed;
+also Rocque Valescure's wife set a good table, and Sebastian Dolores was
+a very liberal feeder; when he was not hungry he was always thirsty. The
+appeasement of hunger and thirst was now become a problem to him, for
+his employers at Beauharnais had given him a month's notice because of
+certain irregularities which had come to their knowledge. Like a wise
+man Sebastian Dolores had said nothing about this abroad, but had
+enlarged his credit in every direction, and had then planned this piece
+of friendly perjury for Rocque Valescure, who was now descending
+the steps of the Court House to the arms of his friends and amid the
+execrations of his foes. What the alleged crime was does not matter.
+It has no vital significance in the history of Jean Jacques Barbille,
+though it has its place as a swivel on which the future swung.
+
+Sebastian Dolores had saved Rocque Valescure from at least three years
+in jail, and possibly a very heavy fine as well; and this service
+must have its due reward. Something for nothing was not the motto of
+Sebastian Dolores; and he confidently looked forward to having a home at
+"The Red Eagle" and a banker in its landlord. He was no longer certain
+that he could rely on help from Jean Jacques, to whom he already owed so
+much. That was why he wanted to make Rocque Valescure his debtor. It
+was not his way to perjure his soul for nothing. He had done so in
+Spain--yet not for nothing either. He had saved his head, which was now
+doing useful work for himself and for a needy fellow-creature. No one
+could doubt that he had helped a neighbour in great need, and had done
+it at some expense to his own nerve and brain. None but an expert could
+have lied as he had done in the witness-box. Also he had upheld his lies
+with a striking narrative of circumstantiality. He made things fit
+in "like mortised blocks" as the Clerk of the Court said to Judge
+Carcasson, when they discussed the infamy afterwards with clear
+conviction that it was perjury of a shameless kind; for one who would
+perjure himself to save a man from jail, would also swear a man into the
+gallows-rope. But Judge Carcasson had not been able to charge the
+jury in that sense, for there was no effective evidence to rebut the
+untruthful attestation of the Spaniard. It had to be taken for what it
+was worth, since the prosecuting attorney could not shake it; and yet to
+the Court itself it was manifestly false witness.
+
+Sebastian Dolores was too wise to throw himself into the arms of his
+released tavern-keeper here immediately after the trial, or to allow
+Rocque Valescure a like indiscretion and luxury; for there was a strong
+law against perjury, and right well Sebastian Dolores knew that old
+Judge Carcasson would have little mercy on him, in spite of the fact
+that he was the grandfather of Zoe Barbille. The Judge would probably
+think that safe custody for his wayward character would be the kindest
+thing he could do for Zoe. Therefore it was that Sebastian Dolores
+paid no attention to the progress of the released landlord of "The Red
+Eagle," though, by a glance out of the corner of his eyes, he made sure
+that the footsteps of liberated guilt were marching at a tangent from
+where he was--even to the nearest tavern.
+
+It was enough for Dolores that he should watch the result of his good
+deed from the isolated area where he now was, in the company of two
+virtuous representatives of domesticity. His time with liberated guilt
+would come! He chuckled to think how he had provided himself with
+a refuge against his hour of trouble. That very day he had left his
+employment, meaning to return no more, securing his full wages through
+having suddenly become resentful and troublesome, neglectful--and
+imperative. To avoid further unpleasantness the firm had paid him all
+his wages; and he had straightway come to Vilray to earn his bed
+and board by other means than through a pen, a ledger and a gift for
+figures. It would not be a permanent security against the future, but
+it would suffice for the moment. It was a rest-place on the road. If
+the worst came to the worst, there was his grand-daughter and his dear
+son-in-law whom he so seldom saw--blood was thicker than water, and he
+would see to it that it was not thinned by neglect.
+
+Meanwhile he ogled Palass Poucette's widow with one eye, and talked
+softly with his tongue to Mere Langlois, as he importuned Madame to "Sip
+the good cordial in the name of charity to all and malice towards none."
+
+"You're a bad man--you, and I want none of your cordials," was Mere
+Langlois's response. "Malice towards none, indeed! If you and the devil
+started business in the same street, you'd make him close up shop in a
+year. I've got your measure, for sure; I have you certain as an arm and
+a pair of stirrups."
+
+"I go about doing good--only good," returned the old sinner with a leer
+at the young widow, whose fingers he managed to press unseen, as he
+swung the little bottle of cordial before the eyes of Mere Langlois.
+He was not wholly surprised when Palass Poucette's widow did not show
+abrupt displeasure at his bold familiarity.
+
+A wild thought flashed into his mind. Might there not be another refuge
+here--here in Palass Poucette's widow! He was sixty-three, it was true,
+and she was only thirty-two; but for her to be an old man's darling who
+had no doubt been a young man's slave, that would surely have its weight
+with her. Also she owned the farm where she lived; and she was pleasant
+pasturage--that was the phrase he used in his own mind, even as his eye
+swept from Mere Langlois to hers in swift, hungry inquiry.
+
+He seemed in earnest when he spoke--but that was his way; it had done
+him service often. "I do good whenever it comes my way to do it," he
+continued. "I left my work this morning"--he lied of course--"and hired
+a buggy to bring me over here, all at my own cost, to save a fellow-man.
+There in the Court House he was sure of prison, with a wife and three
+small children weeping in 'The Red Eagle'; and there I come at great
+expense and trouble to tell the truth--before all to tell the truth--and
+save him and set him free. Yonder he is in the tavern, the work of my
+hands, a gift to the world from an honest man with a good heart and a
+sense of justice. But for me there would be a wife and three children
+in the bondage of shame, sorrow, poverty and misery"--his eyes again
+ravished the brown eyes of Palass Poucette's widow--"and here again I
+drink to my own health and to that of all good people--with charity to
+all and malice towards none!"
+
+The little bottle of golden cordial was raised towards Mere Langlois.
+The fingers of one hand, however, were again seeking those of the
+comely young widow who was half behind him, when he felt them caught
+spasmodically away. Before he had time to turn round he heard a voice,
+saying: "I should have thought that 'With malice to all and charity
+towards none,' was your motto, Dolores."
+
+He knew that voice well enough. He had always had a lurking fear that
+he would hear it say something devastating to him, from the great chair
+where its owner sat and dispensed what justice a jury would permit
+him to do. That devastating something would be agony to one who loved
+liberty and freedom--had not that ever been his watchword, liberty and
+freedom to do what he pleased in the world and with the world? Yes, he
+well knew Judge Carcasson's voice. He would have recognized it in the
+dark--or under the black cap. "M'sieu' le juge!" he said, even before
+he turned round and saw the faces of the tiny Judge and his Clerk of
+the Court. There was a kind of quivering about his mouth, and a startled
+look in his eyes as he faced the two. But there was the widow of Palass
+Poucette, and, if he was to pursue and frequent her, something must be
+done to keep him decently figured in her eye and mind.
+
+"It cost me three dollars to come here and save a man from jail to-day,
+m'sieu' le juge," he added firmly. The Judge pressed the point of his
+cane against the stomach of the hypocrite and perjurer. "If the
+Devil and you meet, he will take off his hat to you, my escaped
+anarchist"--Dolores started almost violently now--"for you can teach
+him much, and Ananias was the merest aboriginal to you. But we'll get
+you--we'll get you, Dolores. You saved that guilty fellow by a careful
+and remarkable perjury to-day. In a long experience I have never seen a
+better performance--have you, monsieur?" he added to M. Fille.
+
+"But once," was the pointed and deliberate reply. "Ah, when was that?"
+asked Judge Carcasson, interested.
+
+"The year monsieur le juge was ill, and Judge Blaquiere took your place.
+It was in Vilray at the Court House here."
+
+"Ah--ah, and who was the phenomenon--the perfect liar?" asked the Judge
+with the eagerness of the expert.
+
+"His name was Sebastian Dolores," meditatively replied M. Fille. "It was
+even a finer performance than that of to-day."
+
+The Judge gave a little grunt of surprise. "Twice, eh?" he asked. "Yet
+this was good enough to break any record," he added. He fastened the
+young widow's eyes. "Madame, you are young, and you have an eye of
+intelligence. Be sure of this: you can protect yourself against almost
+anyone except a liar--eh, madame?" he added to Mere Langlois. "I am sure
+your experience of life and your good sense--"
+
+"My good sense would make me think purgatory was hell if I saw him"--she
+nodded savagely at Dolores as she said it, for she had seen that last
+effort of his to take the fingers of Palass Poucette's widow--"if I saw
+him there, m'sieu' le juge."
+
+"We'll have you yet--we'll have you yet, Dolores," said the Judge, as
+the Spaniard prepared to move on. But, as Dolores went, he again caught
+the eyes of the young widow.
+
+This made him suddenly bold. "'Thou shalt not bear false witness against
+thy neighbour,'--that is the commandment, is it not, m'sieu' le juge?
+You are doing against me what I didn't do in Court to-day. I saved a man
+from your malice."
+
+The crook of the Judge's cane caught the Spaniard's arm, and held him
+gently.
+
+"You're possessed of a devil, Dolores," he said, "and I hope I'll never
+have to administer justice in your case. I might be more man than judge.
+But you will come to no good end. You will certainly--"
+
+He got no further, for the attention of all was suddenly arrested by a
+wagon driving furiously round the corner of the Court House. It was a
+red wagon. In it was Jean Jacques Barbille.
+
+His face was white and set; his head was thrust forward, as though
+looking at something far ahead of him; the pony stallions he was driving
+were white with sweat, and he had an air of tragic helplessness and
+panic.
+
+Suddenly a child ran across the roadway in front of the ponies, and the
+wild cry of the mother roused Jean Jacques out of his agonized trance.
+He sprang to his feet, wrenching the horses backward and aside with
+deftness and presence of mind. The margin of safety was not more than a
+foot, but the child was saved.
+
+The philosopher of the Manor Cartier seemed to come out of a dream
+as men and women applauded, and cries arose of "Bravo, M'sieu' Jean
+Jacques!"
+
+At any other time this would have made Jean Jacques nod and smile, or
+wave a hand, or exclaim in good fellowship. Now, however, his eyes were
+full of trouble, and the glassiness of the semi-trance leaving them,
+they shifted restlessly here and there. Suddenly they fastened on the
+little group of which Judge Carcasson was the centre. He had stopped his
+horses almost beside them.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "ah!" as his eyes rested on the Judge. "Ah!" he again
+exclaimed, as the glance ran from the Judge to Sebastian Dolores. "Ah,
+mercy of God!" he added, in a voice which had both a low note and a high
+note-deep misery and shrill protest in one. Then he seemed to choke, and
+words would not come, but he kept looking, looking at Sebastian Dolores,
+as though fascinated and tortured by the sight of him.
+
+"What is it, Jean Jacques?" asked the little Clerk of the Court gently,
+coming forward and laying a hand on the steaming flank of a spent and
+trembling pony.
+
+As though he could not withdraw his gaze from Sebastian Dolores, Jean
+Jacques did not look at M. Fille; but he thrust out the long whip
+he carried towards the father of his vanished Carmen and his Zoe's
+grandfather, and with the deliberation of one to whom speaking was like
+the laceration of a nerve he said: "Zoe's run away--gone--gone!"
+
+At that moment Louis Charron, his cousin, at whose house Gerard Fynes
+had lodged, came down the street galloping his horse. Seeing the red
+wagon, he made for it, and drew rein.
+
+"It's no good, Jean Jacques," he called. "They're married and gone to
+Montreal--married right under our noses by the Protestant minister at
+Terrebasse Junction. I've got the telegram here from the stationmaster
+at Terrebasse.... Ah, the villain to steal away like that--only a
+child--from her own father! Here it is--the telegram. But believe me, an
+actor, a Protestant and a foreigner--what a devil's mess!"
+
+He waved the telegram towards Jean Jacques.
+
+"Did he owe you anything, Louis?" asked old Mere Langlois, whose
+practical mind was alert to find the material status of things.
+
+"Not a sou. Well, but he was honest, I'll say that for the rogue and
+seducer."
+
+"Seducer--ah, God choke you with your own tongue!" cried Jean Jacques,
+turning on Louis Charron with a savage jerk of the whip he held. "She is
+as pure--"
+
+"It is no marriage, of course!" squeaked a voice from the crowd.
+
+"It'll be all right among the English, won't it, monsieur le juge?"
+asked the gentle widow of Palass Poucette, whom the scene seemed to
+rouse out of her natural shyness.
+
+"Most sure, madame, most sure," answered the Judge. "It will be all
+right among the English, and it is all right among the French so far
+as the law is concerned. As for the Church, that is another
+matter. But--but see," he added addressing Louis Charron, "does the
+station-master say what place they took tickets for?"
+
+"Montreal and Winnipeg," was the reply. "Here it is in the telegram.
+Winnipeg--that's as English as London."
+
+"Winnipeg--a thousand miles!" moaned Jean Jacques.
+
+With the finality which the tickets for Winnipeg signified, the shrill
+panic emotion seemed to pass from him. In its mumbling, deadening force
+it was like a sentence on a prisoner.
+
+As many eyes were on Sebastian Dolores as on Jean Jacques. "It's the bad
+blood that was in her," said a farmer with a significant gesture towards
+Sebastian Dolores.
+
+"A little bad blood let out would be a good thing," remarked a truculent
+river-driver, who had given evidence directly contrary to that given by
+Sebastian Dolores in the trial just concluded. There was a savage look
+in his eye.
+
+Sebastian Dolores heard, and he was not the man to invite trouble. He
+could do no good where he was, and he turned to leave the market-place;
+but in doing so he sought the eye of Virginie Poucette, who, however,
+kept her face at an angle from him, as she saw Mere Langlois sharply
+watching her.
+
+"Grandfather, mother and daughter, all of a piece!" said a spiteful
+woman, as Sebastian Dolores passed her. The look he gave her was not
+the same as that he had given to Palass Poucette's widow. If it had
+been given by a Spanish inquisitor to a heretic, little hope would have
+remained in the heretic's heart. Yet there was a sad patient look on his
+face, as though he was a martyr. He had no wish to be a martyr; but he
+had a feeling that for want of other means of expressing their sympathy
+with Jean Jacques, these rough people might tar and feather him at
+least; though it was only his misfortune that those sprung from his
+loins had such adventurous spirits!
+
+Sebastian Dolores was not without a real instinct regarding things. What
+was in his mind was also passing through that of the river-driver and a
+few of his friends, and they carefully watched the route he was taking.
+
+Jean Jacques prepared to depart. He had ever loved to be the centre of a
+picture, but here was a time when to be in the centre was torture. Eyes
+of morbid curiosity were looking at the open wounds of his heart-ragged
+wounds made by the shrapnel of tragedy and treachery, not the clean
+wounds got in a fair fight, easily healed. For the moment at least the
+little egoist was a mere suffering soul--an epitome of shame, misery and
+disappointment. He must straightway flee the place where he was tied to
+the stake of public curiosity and scorn. He drew the reins tighter, and
+the horses straightened to depart. Then it was that old Judge Carcasson
+laid a hand on his knee.
+
+"Come, come," he said to the dejected and broken little man, "where is
+your philosophy?"
+
+Jean Jacques looked at the Judge, as though with a new-born suspicion
+that henceforth the world would laugh at him, and that Judge Carcasson
+was setting the fashion; but seeing a pitying moisture in the other's
+eyes, he drew himself up, set his jaw, and calling on all the forces at
+his command, he said:
+
+"Moi je suis philosophe!"
+
+His voice frayed a little on the last word, but his head was up now.
+The Clerk of the Court would have asked to accompany him to the Manor
+Cartier, but he was not sure that Jean Jacques would like it. He had a
+feeling that Jean Jacques would wish to have his dark hour alone. So
+he remained silent, and Jean Jacques touched his horses with the whip.
+After starting, however, and having been followed for a hundred yards
+or so by the pitying murmurs and a few I-told-you-so's and revilings for
+having married as he did, Jean Jacques stopped the ponies. Standing up
+in the red wagon he looked round for someone whom, for a moment, he did
+not see in the slowly shifting crowd.
+
+Philosophy was all very well, and he had courageously given his
+allegiance to it, or a formula of it, a moment before; but there was
+something deeper and rarer still in the little man's soul. His heart
+hungered for the two women who had been the joy and pride of his life,
+even when he had been lost in the business of the material world. They
+were more to him than he had ever known; they were parts of himself
+which had slowly developed, as the features and characteristics of
+ancestors gradually emerge and are emphasized in a descendant as his
+years increase. Carmen and Zoe were more a part of himself now than they
+had ever been.
+
+They were gone, the living spirits of his home. Anything that reminded
+him of them, despite the pain of the reminder, was dear to him. Love
+was greater than the vengeful desire of injured human nature. His eyes
+wandered over the people, over the market. At last he saw what he was
+looking for. He called. A man turned. Jean Jacques beckoned to him. He
+came eagerly, he hurried to the red wagon.
+
+"Come home with me," said Jean Jacques.
+
+The words were addressed to Sebastian Dolores, who said to himself that
+this was a refuge surer than "The Red Eagle," or the home of the widow
+Poucette. He climbed in beside Jean Jacques with a sigh of content.
+
+"Ah, but that--but that is the end of our philosopher," said Judge
+Carcasson sadly to the Clerk of the Court, as with amazement he saw this
+catastrophe.
+
+"Alas! if I had only asked to go with him, as I wished to do!" responded
+M. Fille. "There, but a minute ago, it was in my mind," he added with a
+look of pain.
+
+"You missed your chance, falterer," said the Judge severely. "If you
+have a good thought, act on it--that is the golden rule. You missed your
+chance. It will never come again. He has taken the wrong turning, our
+unhappy Jean Jacques."
+
+"Monsieur--oh, monsieur, do not shut the door in the face of God
+like that!" said the shocked little master of the law. "Those two
+together--it may be only for a moment."
+
+"Ah, no, my little owl, Jean Jacques will wind the boa-constrictor round
+his neck like a collar, all for love of those he has lost," answered the
+Judge with emotion; and he caught M. Fille's arm in the companionship of
+sorrow.
+
+In silence these two watched the red wagon till it was out of sight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI. MISFORTUNES COME NOT SINGLY
+
+Judge Carcasson was right. For a year after Zoe's flight Jean Jacques
+wrapped Sebastian Dolores round his neck like a collar, and it choked
+him like a boaconstrictor. But not Sebastian Dolores alone did that.
+When things begin to go wrong in the life of a man whose hands have
+held too many things, the disorder flutters through all the radii of his
+affairs, and presently they rattle away from the hub of his control.
+
+So it was with Jean Jacques. To take his reprobate father-in-law to his
+lonely home would have brought him trouble in any case; but as things
+were, the Spaniard became only the last straw which broke his camel's
+back. And what a burden his camel carried--flour-mill, saw-mill,
+ash-factory, farms, a general store, lime-kilns, agency for
+lightning-rods and insurance, cattle-dealing, the project for the new
+cheese-factory, and money-lending!
+
+Money-lending? It seemed strange that Jean Jacques should be able to
+lend money, since he himself had to borrow, and mortgage also, from time
+to time. When things began to go really wrong with him financially, he
+mortgaged his farms, his flour-mill, and saw-mill, and then lent money
+on other mortgages. This he did because he had always lent money, and it
+was a habit so associated with his prestige, that he tied himself up in
+borrowing and lending and counter-mortgaging till, as the saying is,
+"a Philadelphia lawyer" could not have unravelled his affairs without
+having been born again in the law. That he was able to manipulate his
+tangled affairs, while keeping the confidence of those from whom he
+borrowed, and the admiration of those to whom he lent, was evidence of
+his capacity. "Genius of a kind" was what his biggest creditor called it
+later.
+
+After a personal visit to St. Saviour's, this biggest creditor and
+financial potentate--M. Mornay--said that if Jean Jacques had been
+started right and trained right, he would have been a "general in the
+financial field, winning big battles."
+
+M. Mornay chanced to be a friend of Judge Carcasson, and when he visited
+Vilray he remembered that the Judge had spoken often of his humble but
+learned friend, the Clerk of the Court, and of his sister. So M.
+Mornay made his way from the office of the firm of avocats whom he had
+instructed in his affairs with Jean Jacques, to that of M. Fille. Here
+he was soon engaged in comment on the master-miller and philosopher.
+
+"He has had much trouble, and no doubt his affairs have suffered,"
+remarked M. Fille cautiously, when the ice had been broken and the Big
+Financier had referred casually to the difficulties among which Jean
+Jacques was trying to maintain equilibrium; "but he is a man who can do
+things too hard for other men."
+
+The Big Financier lighted another cigar and blew away several clouds of
+smoke before he said in reply, "Yes, I know he has had family trouble
+again, but that is a year ago, and he has had a chance to get another
+grip of things."
+
+"He did not sit down and mope," explained M. Fille. "He was at work the
+next day after his daughter's flight just the same as before. He is a
+man of great courage. Misfortune does not paralyse him."
+
+M. Mornay's speech was of a kind which came in spurts, with pauses of
+thought between, and the pause now was longer than usual.
+
+"Paralysis--certainly not," he said at last. "Physical activity is one
+of the manifestations of mental, moral, and even physical shock and
+injury. I've seen a man with a bullet in him run a half-mile--anywhere;
+I've seen a man ripped up by a crosscut-saw hold himself together, and
+walk--anywhere--till he dropped. Physical and nervous activity is one of
+the forms which shattered force takes. I expect that your 'M'sieu' Jean
+Jacques' has been busier this last year than ever before in his life.
+He'd have to be; for a man who has as many irons in the fire as he has,
+must keep running from bellows to bellows when misfortune starts to damp
+him down."
+
+The Clerk of the Court sighed. He realized the significance of what his
+visitor was saying. Ever Since Zoe had gone, Jean Jacques had been for
+ever on the move, for ever making hay on which the sun did not shine.
+Jean Jacques' face these days was lined and changeful. It looked
+unstable and tired--as though disturbing forces were working up to the
+surface out of control. The brown eyes, too, were far more restless
+than they had ever been since the Antoine was wrecked, and their owner
+returned with Carmen to the Manor Cartier. But the new restlessness of
+the eyes was different from the old. That was a mobility impelled by
+an active, inquisitive soul, trying to observe what was going on in the
+world, and to make sure that its possessor was being seen by the world.
+This activity was that of a mind essentially concerned to find how many
+ways it could see for escape from a maze of things; while his vanity
+was taking new forms. It was always anxious to discover if the world was
+trying to know how he was taking the blows of fate and fortune. He had
+been determined that, whatever came, it should not see him paralysed or
+broken.
+
+As M. Fille only nodded his head in sorrowful assent, the Big Financier
+became more explicit. He was determined to lose nothing by Jean Jacques,
+and he was prepared to take instant action when it was required; but
+he was also interested in the man who might have done really powerful
+things in the world, had he gone about them in the right way.
+
+"M. Barbille has had some lawsuits this year, is it not so?" he asked.
+
+"Two of importance, monsieur, and one is not yet decided," answered M.
+Fille.
+
+"He lost those suits of importance?"
+
+"That is so, monsieur."
+
+"And they cost him six thousand dollars--and over?" The Big Financier
+seemed to be pressing towards a point.
+
+"Something over that amount, monsieur."
+
+"And he may lose the suit now before the Courts?"
+
+"Who can tell, monsieur!" vaguely commented the little learned official.
+
+M. Mornay was not to be evaded. "Yes, yes, but the case as it stands--to
+you who are wise in experience of legal affairs, does it seem at all a
+sure thing for him?"
+
+"I wish I could say it was, monsieur," sadly answered the other.
+
+The Big Financier nodded vigorously. "Exactly. Nothing is so
+unproductive as the law. It is expensive whether you win or lose, and
+it is murderously expensive when you do lose. You will observe, I know,
+that your Jean Jacques is a man who can only be killed once--eh?"
+
+"Monsieur?" M. Fille really did not grasp this remark.
+
+M. Mornay's voice became precise. "I will explain. He has never created;
+he has only developed what has been created. He inherited much of what
+he has or has had. His designs were always affected by the fact that he
+had never built from the very bottom. When he goes to pieces--"
+
+"Monsieur--to pieces!" exclaimed the Clerk of the Court painfully.
+
+"Well, put it another way. If he is broken financially, he will never
+come up again. Not because of his age--I lost a second fortune at
+fifty, and have a third ready to lose at sixty--but because the primary
+initiative won't be in him. He'll say he has lost, and that there's an
+end to it all. His philosophy will come into play--just at the last. It
+will help him in one way and harm him in another."
+
+"Ah, then you know about his philosophy, monsieur?" queried M. Fille.
+Was Jean Jacques' philosophy, after all, to be a real concrete asset of
+his life sooner or later?
+
+The Big Financier smiled, and turned some coins over in his pocket
+rather loudly. Presently he said: "The first time I ever saw him he
+treated me to a page of Descartes. It cost him one per cent. I always
+charge a man for talking sentiment to me in business hours. I had to
+listen to him, and he had to pay me for listening. I've no doubt his
+general yearly expenditure has been increased for the same reason--eh,
+Maitre Fille? He has done it with others--yes?" M. Fille waved a hand
+in deprecation, and his voice had a little acidity as he replied: "Ah,
+monsieur, what can we poor provincials do--any of us--in dealing with
+men like you, philosophy or no philosophy? You get us between the
+upper and the nether mill stones. You are cosmopolitan; M. Jean Jacques
+Barbille is a provincial; and you, because he has soul enough to forget
+business for a moment and to speak of things that matter more than money
+and business, you grind him into powder."
+
+M. Mornay shook his head and lighted his cigar again. "There you are
+wrong, Maitre Fille. It is bad policy to grind to powder, or grind at
+all, men out of whom you are making money. It is better to keep them
+from between the upper and nether mill-stones.
+
+"I have done so with your Barbille. I could give him such trouble as
+would bring things crashing down upon him at once, if I wanted to be
+merely vicious in getting my own; but that would make it impossible for
+me to meet at dinner my friend Judge Carcasson. So, as long as I can, I
+will not press him. But I tell you that the margin of safety on which he
+is moving now is too narrow--scarce a foot-hold. He has too much under
+construction in the business of his life, and if one stone slips
+out, down may come the whole pile. He has stopped building the
+cheese-factory--that represents sheer loss. The ash-factory is to close
+next week, the saw-mill is only paying its way, and the flour-mill and
+the farms, which have to sustain the call of his many interests, can't
+stand the drain. Also, he has several people heavily indebted to him,
+and if they go down--well, it depends on the soundness of the security
+he holds. If they listened to him talk philosophy, encouraged him to
+do it, and told him they liked it, when the bargain was being made, the
+chances are the security is inadequate."
+
+The Clerk of the Court bridled up. "Monsieur, you are very hard on a man
+who for twenty-five years has been a figure and a power in this part of
+the province. You sneer at one who has been a benefactor to the place
+where he lives; who has given with the right hand and the left; whose
+enterprise has been a source of profit to many; and who has got a savage
+reward for the acts of a blameless and generous life. You know his
+troubles, monsieur, and we who have seen him bear them with fortitude
+and Christian philosophy, we resent--"
+
+"You need resent nothing, Maitre Fille," interrupted the Big Financier,
+not unkindly. "What I have said has been said to his friend and the
+friend of my own great friend, Judge Carcasson; and I am only anxious
+that he should be warned by someone whose opinions count with him; whom
+he can trust--"
+
+"But, monsieur, alas!" broke in the Clerk of the Court, "that is the
+trouble; he does not select those he can trust. He is too confiding.
+He believes those who flatter him, who impose on his good heart. It has
+always been so."
+
+"I judge it is so still in the case of Monsieur Dolores, his daughter's
+grandfather?" the Big Financier asked quizzically.
+
+"It is so, monsieur," replied M. Fille. "The loss of his daughter shook
+him even more than the flight of his wife; and it is as though he could
+not live without that scoundrel near him--a vicious man, who makes
+trouble wherever he goes. He was a cause of loss to M. Barbille years
+ago when he managed the ash-factory; he is very dangerous to women--even
+now he is a danger to the future of a young widow" (he meant the widow
+of Palass Poucette); "and he has caused a scandal by perjury as a
+witness, and by the consequences--but I need not speak of that here. He
+will do Jean Jacques great harm in the end, of that I am sure. The very
+day Mademoiselle Zoe left the Manor Cartier to marry the English actor,
+Jean Jacques took that Spanish bad-lot to his home; and there he stays,
+and the old friends go--the old friends go; and he does not seem to miss
+them."
+
+There was something like a sob in M. Fille's voice. He had loved Zoe in
+a way that in a mother would have meant martyrdom, if necessary, and
+in a father would have meant sacrifice when needed; and indeed he had
+sacrificed both time and money to find Zoe. He had even gone as far as
+Winnipeg on the chance of finding her, making that first big journey in
+the world, which was as much to him in all ways as a journey to Bagdad
+would mean to most people of M. Mornay's world. Also he had spent money
+since in corresponding with lawyers in the West whom he engaged to
+search for her; but Zoe had never been found. She had never written
+but one letter to Jean Jacques since her flight. This letter said,
+in effect, that she would come back when her husband was no longer "a
+beggar" as her father had called him, and not till then. It was written
+en route to Winnipeg, at the dictation of Gerard Fynes, who had a
+romantic view of life and a mistaken pride, but some courage too--the
+courage of love.
+
+"He thinks his daughter will come back--yes?" asked M. Mornay. "Once
+he said to me that he was sorry there was no lady to welcome me at the
+Manor Cartier, but that he hoped his daughter would yet have the honour.
+His talk is quite spacious and lofty at times, as you know."
+
+"So--that is so, monsieur... Mademoiselle Zoe's room is always ready for
+her. At time of Noel he sent cards to all the families of the parish who
+had been his friends, as from his daughter and himself; and when people
+came to visit at the Manor on New Year's Day, he said to each and all
+that his daughter regretted she could not arrive in time from the
+West to receive them; but that next year she would certainly have the
+pleasure."
+
+"Like the light in the window for the unreturning sailor," somewhat
+cynically remarked the Big Financier. "Did many come to the Manor on
+that New Year's Day?"
+
+"But yes, many, monsieur. Some came from kindness, and some because they
+were curious--"
+
+"And Monsieur Dolores?"
+
+The lips of the Clerk of the Court curled, "He went about with a manner
+as soft as that of a young cure. Butter would not melt in his mouth.
+Some of the women were sorry for him, until they knew he had given one
+of Jean Jacques' best bear-skin rugs to Madame Palass Poucette for a New
+Year's gift."
+
+The Big Financier laughed cheerfully. "It's an old way to
+popularity--being generous with other people's money. That is why I am
+here. The people that spend your Jean Jacques' money will be spending
+mine too, if I don't take care."
+
+M. Fille noted the hard look which now settled in M. Mornay's face, and
+it disturbed him. He rose and leaned over the table towards his visitor
+anxiously.
+
+"Tell me, if you please, monsieur, is there any real and immediate
+danger of the financial collapse of Jean Jacques?"
+
+The other regarded M. Fille with a look of consideration. He liked this
+Clerk of the Court, but he liked Jean Jacques for the matter of that,
+and away now from the big financial arena where he usually worked, his
+natural instincts had play. He had come to St. Saviour's with a bigger
+thing in his mind than Jean Jacques and his affairs; he had come on the
+matter of a railway, and had taken Jean Jacques on the way, as it were.
+The scheme for the railway looked very promising to him, and he was in
+good humour; so that all he said about Jean Jacques was free from that
+general irritation of spirit which has sacrificed many a small man on
+a big man's altar. He saw the agitation he had caused, and he almost
+repented of what he had already said; yet he had acted with a view to
+getting M. Fille to warn Jean Jacques.
+
+"I repeat what I said," he now replied. "Monsieur Jean Jacques' affairs
+are too nicely balanced. A little shove one way or another and over goes
+the whole caboose. If anyone here has influence over him, it would be a
+kindness to use it. That case before the Court of Appeal, for instance;
+he'd be better advised to settle it, if there is still time. One or two
+of the mortgages he holds ought to be foreclosed, so that he may get
+out of them all the law will let him. He ought to pouch the money that's
+owing him; he ought to shave away his insurance, his lightning-rod, and
+his horsedealing business; and he ought to sell his farms and his store,
+and concentrate on the flour-mill and the saw-mill. He has had his
+warnings generally from my lawyers, but what he wants most is the gentle
+hand to lead him; and I should think that yours, M. Fille, is the hand
+the Almighty would choose if He was concerned with what happens at St.
+Saviour's and wanted an agent."
+
+The Clerk of the Court blushed greatly. This was a very big man indeed
+in the great commercial world, and flattery from him had unusual
+significance; but he threw out his hands with a gesture of helplessness,
+and said: "Monsieur, if I could be of use I would; but he has ceased to
+listen to me; he--"
+
+He got no further, for there was a sharp knock at the street door of the
+outer office, and M. Fille hastened to the other room. After a moment he
+came back, a familiar voice following him.
+
+"It is Monsieur Barbille, monsieur," M. Fille said quietly, but with
+apprehensive eyes.
+
+"Well--he wants to see me?" asked M. Mornay. "No, no, monsieur. It would
+be better if he did not see you. He is in some agitation."
+
+"Fille! Maitre Fille--be quick now," called Jean Jacques' voice from the
+other room.
+
+"What did I say, monsieur?" asked the Big Financier. "The mind that's
+received a blow must be moving--moving; the man with the many irons must
+be flying from bellows to bellows!"
+
+"Come, come, there's no time to lose," came Jean Jacques' voice again,
+and the handle of the door of their room turned.
+
+M. Fille's hand caught the handle. "Excuse me, Monsieur Barbille,--a
+minute please," he persisted almost querulously. "Be good enough to keep
+your manners... monsieur!" he added to the Financier, "if you do not
+wish to speak with him, there is a door"--he pointed--"which will let
+you into the side-street."
+
+"What is his trouble?" asked M. Mornay.
+
+M. Fille hesitated, then said reflectively: "He has lost his case in the
+Appeal Court, monsieur; also, his cousin, Auguste Charron, who has been
+working the Latouche farm, has flitted, leaving--"
+
+"Leaving Jean Jacques to pay unexpected debts?"
+
+"So, monsieur."
+
+"Then I can be of no use, I fear," remarked M. Mornay dryly.
+
+"Fille! Fille!" came the voice of Jean Jacques insistently from the
+room.
+
+"And so I will say au revoir, Monsieur Fille," continued the Big
+Financier.
+
+A moment later the great man was gone, and M. Fille was alone with the
+philosopher of the Manor Cartier.
+
+"Well, well, why do you keep me waiting! Who was it in there--anyone
+that's concerned with my affairs?" asked Jean Jacques.
+
+In these days he was sensitive when there was no cause, and he was
+credulous where he ought to be suspicious. The fact that the little man
+had held the door against him made him sure that M. Fille had not wished
+him to see the departed visitor.
+
+"Come, out with it--who was it making fresh trouble for me?" persisted
+Jean Jacques.
+
+"No one making trouble for you, my friend," answered the Clerk of the
+Court, "but someone who was trying to do you a good turn."
+
+"He must have been a stranger then," returned Jean Jacques bitterly.
+"Who was it?"
+
+M. Fille, after an instant's further hesitation, told him.
+
+"Oh, him--M. Momay!" exclaimed Jean Jacques, with a look of relief, his
+face lighting. "That's a big man with a most capable and far-reaching
+mind. He takes a thing in as the ocean mouths a river. If I had had
+men like that to deal with all my life, what a different ledger I'd be
+balancing now! Descartes, Kant, Voltaire, Rousseau, Hume, Hegel--he
+has an ear for them all. That is the intellectual side of him; and in
+business"--he threw up a hand--"there he views the landscape from the
+mountain-top. He has vision, strategy, executive. He is Napoleon
+and Anacreon in one. He is of the builders on the one hand, of the
+Illuminati and the Encyclopedistes on the other."
+
+Even the Clerk of the Court, with his circumscribed range of thought and
+experience, in that moment saw Jean Jacques as he really was. Here was
+a man whose house of life was beginning to sway from an earthquake;
+who had been smitten in several deadly ways, and was about to receive
+buffetings beyond aught he had yet experienced, philosophizing on the
+tight-rope--Blondin and Plato in one. Yet sardonically piteous as it
+was, the incident had shown Jean Jacques with the germ of something big
+in him. He had recognized in M. Mornay, who could level him to the dust
+tomorrow financially, a master of the world's affairs, a prospector of
+life's fields, who would march fearlessly beyond the farthest frontiers
+into the unknown. Jean Jacques' admiration of the lion who could, and
+would, slay him was the best tribute to his own character.
+
+M. Fille's eyes moistened as he realized it; and he knew that nothing he
+could say or do would make this man accommodate his actions to the hard
+rules of the business of life; he must for ever be applying to them
+conceptions of a half-developed mind.
+
+"Quite so, quite so, Jean Jacques," M. Fille responded gently,
+"but"--here came a firmer note to his voice, for he had taken to heart
+the lesson M. Mornay had taught him, and he was determined to do his
+duty now when the opportunity was in his hand--"but you have got to deal
+with things as they are; not as they might have been. If you cannot have
+the great men you have to deal with the little men like me. You have to
+prove yourself bigger than the rest of us by doing things better. A man
+doesn't fail only because of others, but also because of himself. You
+were warned that the chances were all against you in the case that's
+just been decided, yet you would go on; you were warned that your
+cousin, Auguste Charron, was in debt, and that his wife was mad to get
+away from the farm and go West, yet you would take no notice. Now he
+has gone, and you have to pay, and your case has gone against you in the
+Appellate Court besides.... I will tell you the truth, my friend, even
+if it cuts me to the heart. You have not kept your judgment in hand; you
+have gone ahead like a bull at a gate; and you pay the price. You listen
+to those who flatter, and on those who would go through fire and water
+for you, you turn your back--on those who would help you in your hour of
+trouble, in your dark day."
+
+Jean Jacques drew himself up with a gesture, impatient, masterful and
+forbidding. "I have fought my fight alone in the dark day; I have
+not asked for any one's help," he answered. "I have wept on no man's
+shoulder. I have been mauled by the claws of injury and shame, and I
+have not flinched. I have healed my own wounds, and I wear my scars
+without--"
+
+He stopped, for there came a sharp rat-tat-tat at the door which opened
+into the street. Somehow the commonplace, trivial interruption produced
+on both a strange, even startling effect. It suddenly produced in their
+minds a feeling of apprehension, as though there was whispered in their
+ears, "Something is going to happen--beware!"
+
+Rat-tat-tat! The two men looked at each other. The same thought was in
+the mind of both. Jean Jacques clutched at his beard nervously, then
+with an effort he controlled himself. He took off his hat as though he
+was about to greet some important person, or to receive sentence in
+a court. Instinctively he felt the little book of philosophy which he
+always carried now in his breast-pocket, as a pietist would finger his
+beads in moments of fear or anxiety. The Clerk of the Court passed his
+thin hand over his hair, as he was wont to do in court when the Judge
+began his charge to the Jury, and then with an action more impulsive
+than was usual with him, he held out his hand, and Jean Jacques grasped
+it. Something was bringing them together just when it seemed that, in
+the storm of Jean Jacques' indignation, they were about to fall apart.
+M. Fille's eyes said as plainly as words could do, "Courage, my friend!"
+
+Rat-tat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! The knocking was sharp and imperative now. The
+Clerk of the Court went quickly forward and threw open the door.
+
+There stepped inside the widow of Palass Poucette. She had a letter in
+her hand. "M'sieu', pardon, if I intrude," she said to M. Fille; "but I
+heard that M'sieu' Jean Jacques was here. I have news for him."
+
+"News!" repeated Jean Jacques, and he looked like a man who was waiting
+for what he feared to hear. "They told me at the post-office that you
+were here. I got the letter only a quarter of an hour ago, and I thought
+I would go at once to the Manor Cartier and tell M'sieu' Jean Jacques
+what the letter says. I wanted to go to the Manor Cartier for something
+else as well, but I will speak of that by and by. It is the letter now."
+
+She pulled off first one glove and then the other, still holding the
+letter, as though she was about to perform some ceremony. "It was a
+good thing I found out that M'sieu' Jean Jacques was here. It saves a
+four-mile drive," she remarked.
+
+"The news--ah, nom de Dieu, the slowness of the woman--like a river
+going uphill!" exclaimed Jean Jacques, who was finding it hard to still
+the trembling of his limbs.
+
+The widow of Palass Poucette flushed, but she had some sense in her
+head, and she realized that Jean Jacques was a little unbalanced at the
+moment. Indeed, Jean Jacques was not so old that she would have found
+it difficult to take a well-defined and warm interest in him, were
+circumstances propitious. She held out the letter to him at once. "It is
+from my sister in the West--at Shilah," she explained. "There is nothing
+in it you can't read, and most of it concerns you." Jean Jacques took
+the letter, but he could not bring himself to read it, for Virginie
+Poucette's manner was not suggestive of happy tidings. After an
+instant's hesitation he handed the letter to M. Fille, who pressed his
+lips with an air of determination, and put on his glasses.
+
+Jean Jacques saw the face of the Clerk of the Court flush and then turn
+pale as he read the letter. "There, be quick!" he said before M. Fille
+had turned the first page.
+
+Then the widow of Palass Poucette came to him and, in a simple harmless
+way she had, free from coquetry or guile, stood beside him, took his
+hand and held it. He seemed almost unconscious of her act, but his
+fingers convulsively tightened on hers; while she reflected that here
+was one who needed help sorely; here was a good, warm-hearted man on
+whom a woman could empty out affection like rain and get a good harvest.
+She really was as simple as a child, was Virginie Poucette, and even in
+her acquaintance with Sebastian Dolores, there had only been working in
+her the natural desire of a primitive woman to have a man saying that
+which would keep alive in her the things that make her sing as she
+toils; and certainly Virginie toiled late and early on her farm. She
+really was concerned for Jean Jacques. Both wife and daughter had taken
+flight, and he was alone and in trouble. At this moment she felt
+she would like to be a sister to him--she was young enough to be his
+daughter almost. Her heart was kind.
+
+"Now!" said Jean Jacques at last, as the Clerk of the Court's eyes
+reached the end of the last page. "Now, speak! It is--it is my Zoe?"
+
+"It is our Zoe," answered M. Fille.
+
+"Figure de Christ, what do you wait for--she is not dead?" exclaimed
+Jean Jacques with a courage which made him set his feet squarely.
+
+The Clerk of the Court shook his head and began. "She is alive.
+Madame Poucette's sister saw her by chance. Zoe was on her way up the
+Saskatchewan River to the Peace River country with her husband. Her
+husband's health was bad. He had to leave the stage in the United States
+where he had gone after Winnipeg. The doctors said he must live the
+open-air life. He and Zoe were going north, to take a farm somewhere."
+
+"Somewhere! Somewhere!" murmured Jean Jacques. "The farther away from
+Jean Jacques the better--that is what she thinks."
+
+"No, you are wrong, my friend," rejoined M. Fille. "She said to Madame
+Poucette's sister"--he held up the letter--"that when they had proved
+they could live without anybody's help they would come back to see you.
+Zoe thought that, having taken her life in her own hands, she ought to
+justify herself before she asked your forgiveness and a place at your
+table. She felt that you could only love her and be glad of her, if her
+man was independent of you. It is a proud and sensitive soul--but there
+it is!"
+
+"It is romance, it is quixotism--ah, heart of God, what quixotism!"
+exclaimed Jean Jacques.
+
+"She gets her romance and quixotism from Jean Jacques Barbille,"
+retorted the Clerk of the Court. "She does more feeling than
+thinking--like you."
+
+Jean Jacques' heart was bleeding, but he drew himself up proudly, and
+caught his hand away from the warm palm of Poucette's widow. As his
+affairs crumbled his pride grew more insistent. M. Fille had challenged
+his intellect--his intellect!
+
+"My life has been a procession of practical things," he declared
+oracularly. "I have been a man of business who designs. I am no dreamer.
+I think. I act. I suffer. I have been the victim of romance, not
+its interpreter. Mercy of God, what has broken my life, what but
+romance--romance, first with one and then with another! More feeling
+than thinking, Maitre Fille--you say that? Why the Barbilles have ever
+in the past built up life on a basis of thought and action, and I have
+added philosophy--the science of thought and act. Jean Jacques Barbille
+has been the man of design and the man of action also. Don Quixote was a
+fool, a dreamer, but Jean Jacques is no Don Quixote. He is a man who has
+done things, but also he is a man who has been broken on the wheel of
+life. He is a man whose heart-strings have been torn--"
+
+He had worked himself up into a fit of eloquence and revolt. He was
+touched by the rod of desperation, which makes the soul protest that it
+is right when it knows that it is wrong.
+
+Suddenly, breaking off his speech, he threw up his hands and made for
+the door.
+
+"I will fight it out alone!" he declared with rough emotion, and at the
+door he turned towards them again. He looked at them both as though he
+would dare them to contradict him. The restless fire of his eyes seemed
+to dart from one to the other.
+
+"That's the way it is," said the widow of Palass Poucette coming quickly
+forward to him. "It's always the way. We must fight our battles alone,
+but we don't have to bear the wounds alone. In the battle you are
+alone, but the hand to heal the wounds may be another's. You are a
+philosopher--well, what I speak is true, isn't it?"
+
+Virginie had said the one thing which could have stayed the tide of Jean
+Jacques' pessimism and broken his cloud of gloom. She appealed to him
+in the tune of an old song. The years and the curses of years had not
+dispelled the illusion that he was a philosopher. He stopped with his
+hand on the door.
+
+"That's so, without doubt that's so," he said. "You have stumbled on a
+truth of life, madame."
+
+Suddenly there came into his look something of the yearning and hunger
+which the lonely and forsaken feel when they are not on the full tide
+of doing. It was as though he must have companionship, in spite of
+his brave announcement that he must fight his fight alone. He had been
+wounded in the battle, and here was one who held out the hand of healing
+to him. Never since his wife had left him the long lonely years ago
+had a woman meant anything to him except as one of a race; but in this
+moment here a woman had held his hand, and he could feel still the warm
+palm which had comforted his own agitated fingers.
+
+Virginie Poucette saw, and she understood what was passing in his mind.
+Yet she did not see and understand all by any means; and it is hard to
+tell what further show of fire there might have been, but that the Clerk
+of the Court was there, saying harshly under his breath, "The huzzy! The
+crafty huzzy!"
+
+The Clerk of the Court was wrong. Virginie was merely sentimental, not
+intriguing or deceitful; for Jean Jacques was not a widower--and she was
+an honest woman and genuinely tender-hearted.
+
+"I'm coming to the Manor Cartier to-morrow," Virginie continued. "I have
+a rug of yours. By mistake it was left at my house by M'sieu' Dolores."
+
+"You needn't do that. I will call at your place tomorrow for it,"
+replied Jean Jacques almost eagerly. "I told M'sieu' Dolores to-day
+never to enter my house again. I didn't know it was your rug. It was
+giving away your property, not his own," she hurriedly explained, and
+her face flushed.
+
+"That is the Spanish of it," said Jean Jacques bitterly. His eyes were
+being opened in many directions to-day.
+
+M. Fille was in distress. Jean Jacques had had a warning about Sebastian
+Dolores, but here was another pit into which he might fall, the pit
+digged by a widow, who, no doubt, would not hesitate to marry a divorced
+Catholic philosopher, if he could get a divorce by hook or by crook.
+Jean Jacques had said that he was going to Virginie Poucette's place
+the next day. That was as bad as it could be; yet there was this to
+the good, that it was to-morrow and not to-day; and who could tell what
+might happen between to-day and to-morrow!
+
+A moment later the three were standing outside the office in the street.
+As Jean Jacques climbed into his red wagon, Virginie Poucette's eyes
+were attracted to the northern sky where a reddish glow appeared, and
+she gave an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"That must be a fire," she said, pointing.
+
+"A bit of pine-land probably," said M. Fille--with anxiety, however, for
+the red glow lay in the direction of St. Saviour's where were the
+Manor Cartier and Jean Jacques' mills. Maitre Fille was possessed of a
+superstition that all the things which threaten a man's life to wreck
+it, operate awhile in their many fields before they converge like an
+army in one field to deliver the last attack on their victim. It would
+not have seemed strange to him, if out of the night a voice of the
+unseen had said that the glow in the sky came from the Manor Cartier.
+This very day three things had smitten Jean Jacques, and, if three, why
+not four or five, or fifty!
+
+With a strange fascination Jean Jacques' eyes were fastened on the glow.
+He clucked to his horses, and they started jerkily away. M. Fille and
+the widow Poucette said good-bye to him, but he did not hear, or if he
+heard, he did not heed. His look was set upon the red reflection which
+widened in the sky and seemed to grow nearer and nearer. The horses
+quickened their pace. He touched them with the whip, and they went
+faster. The glow increased as he left Vilray behind. He gave the horses
+the whip again sharply, and they broke into a gallop. Yet his eyes
+scarcely left the sky. The crimson glow drew him, held him, till his
+brain was afire also. Jean Jacques had a premonition and a conviction
+which was even deeper than the imagination of M. Fille.
+
+In Vilray, behind him, the telegraph clerk was in the street shouting to
+someone to summon the local fire-brigade to go to St. Saviour's.
+
+"What is it--what is it?" asked M. Fille of the telegraph clerk in
+marked agitation.
+
+"It's M'sieu' Jean Jacques' flour-mill," was the reply.
+
+Wagons and buggies and carts began to take the road to the Manor
+Cartier; and Maitre Fille went also with the widow of Palass Poucette.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII. HIS GREATEST ASSET
+
+Jean Jacques did not go to the house of the widow of Palass Poucette
+"next day" as he had proposed: and she did not expect him. She had seen
+his flour-mill burned to the ground on the-evening when they met in the
+office of the Clerk of the evening Court, when Jean Jacques had learned
+that his Zoe had gone into farther and farther places away from him.
+Perhaps Virginie Poucette never had shed as many tears in any whole
+year of her life as she did that night, not excepting the year Palass
+Poucette died, and left her his farm and seven horses, more or less
+sound, and a threshing-machine in good condition. The woman had a rare
+heart and there was that about Jean Jacques which made her want to help
+him. She had no clear idea as to how that could be done, but she had
+held his hand at any rate, and he had seemed the better for it. Virginie
+had only an objective view of things; and if she was not material, still
+she could best express herself through the medium of the senses.
+
+There were others besides her who shed tears also--those who saw Jean
+Jacques' chief asset suddenly disappear in flame and smoke and all his
+other assets become thereby liabilities of a kind; and there were many
+who would be the poorer in the end because of it. If Jean Jacques went
+down, he probably would not go alone. Jean Jacques had done a good
+fire-insurance business over a course of years, but somehow he had not
+insured himself as heavily as he ought to have done; and in any case
+the fire-policy for the mill was not in his own hands. It was in the
+safe-keeping of M. Mornay at Montreal, who had warned M. Fille of the
+crisis in the money-master's affairs on the very day that the crisis
+came.
+
+No one ever knew how it was that the mill took fire, but there was one
+man who had more than a shrewd suspicion, though there was no occasion
+for mentioning it. This was Sebastian Dolores. He had not set the mill
+afire. That would have been profitable from no standpoint, and he had no
+grudge against Jean Jacques. Why should he have a grudge? Jean Jacques'
+good fortune, as things were, made his own good fortune; for he ate
+and drank and slept and was clothed at his son-in-law's expense. But he
+guessed accurately who had set the mill on fire, and that it was done
+accidentally. He remembered that a man who smoked bad tobacco which
+had to be lighted over and over again, threw a burning match down
+after applying it to his pipe. He remembered that there was a heap of
+flour-bags near where the man stood when the match was thrown down; and
+that some loose strings for tying were also in a pile beside the bags.
+So it was easy for the thing to have happened if the man did not turn
+round after he threw the match down, but went swaying on out of the
+mill, and over to the Manor Cartier, and up staggering to bed; for he
+had been drinking potato-brandy, and he had been brought up on the mild
+wines of Spain! In other words, the man who threw down the lighted match
+which did the mischief was Sebastian Dolores himself.
+
+He regretted it quite as much as he had ever regretted anything; and
+on the night of the fire there were tears in his large brown eyes which
+deceived the New Cure and others; though they did not deceive the widow
+of Palass Poucette, who had found him out, and who now had no pleasure
+at all in his aged gallantries. But the regret Dolores experienced would
+not prevent him from doing Jean Jacques still greater injury if, and
+when, the chance occurred, should it be to his own advantage.
+
+Jean Jacques shed no tears on the night that his beloved flour-mill
+became a blackened ruin, and his saw-mill had a narrow escape. He was
+like one in a dream, scarcely realizing that men were saying kind things
+to him; that the New Cure held his hand and spoke to him more like
+a brother than one whose profession it was to be good to those who
+suffered. In his eyes was the same half-rapt, intense, distant look
+which came into them when, at Vilray, he saw that red reflection in the
+sky over against St. Saviour's, and urged his horses onward.
+
+The world knew that the burning of the mill was a blow to Jean Jacques,
+but it did not know how great and heavy the blow was. First one and
+then another of his friends said he was insured, and that in another
+six months the mill-wheel would be turning again. They said so to Jean
+Jacques when he stood with his eyes fixed on the burning fabric, which
+nothing could save; but he showed no desire to speak. He only nodded
+and kept on staring at the fire with that curious underglow in his eyes.
+Some chemistry of the soul had taken place in him in the hour when he
+drove to the Manor Cartier from Vilray, and it produced a strange fire,
+which merged into the reflection of the sky above the burning mill.
+Later, came things which were strange and eventful in his life, but
+that under-glow was for ever afterwards in his eyes. It was in singular
+contrast to the snapping fire which had been theirs all the days of his
+life till now--the snapping fire of action, will and design. It still
+was there when they said to him suddenly that the wind had changed, and
+that the flame and sparks were now blowing toward the saw-mill. Even
+when he gave orders, and set to work to defend the saw-mill, arranging
+a line of men with buckets on its roof, and so saving it, this look
+remained. It was something spiritual and unmaterial, something, maybe,
+which had to do with the philosophy he had preached, thought and
+practised over long years. It did not disappear when at last, after
+midnight, everyone had gone, and the smouldering ruins of his greatest
+asset lay mournful in the wan light of the moon.
+
+Kind and good friends like the Clerk of the Court and the New Cure had
+seen him to his bedroom at midnight, leaving him there with a promise
+that they would come on the morrow; and he had said goodnight evenly,
+and had shut the door upon them with a sort of smile. But long after
+they had gone, when Sebastian Dolores and Seraphe Corniche were asleep,
+he had got up again and left the house, to gaze at the spot where the
+big white mill with the red roof had been-the mill which had been there
+in the days of the Baron of Beaugard, and to which time had only added
+size and adornment. The gold-cock weathervane of the mill, so long the
+admiration of people living and dead, and indeed the symbol of himself,
+as he had been told, being so full of life and pride, courage and
+vigour-it lay among the ruins, a blackened relic of the Barbilles.
+
+He had said in M. Fille's office not many hours before, "I will fight
+it all out alone," and here in the tragic quiet of the night he made his
+resolve a reality. In appearance he was not now like the "Seigneur" who
+sang to the sailors on the Antoine when she was fighting for the shore
+of Gaspe; nevertheless there was that in him which would keep him much
+the same man to the end.
+
+Indeed, as he got into bed that fateful night he said aloud: "They shall
+see that I am not beaten. If they give me time up there in Montreal I'll
+keep the place till Zoe comes back--till Zoe comes home."
+
+As he lay and tried to sleep, he kept saying over to himself, "Till Zoe
+comes home."
+
+He thought that if he could but have Zoe back, it all would not matter
+so much. She would keep looking at him and saying, "There's the man that
+never flinched when things went wrong; there's the man that was a friend
+to everyone."
+
+At last a thought came to him--the key to the situation as it seemed,
+the one thing necessary to meet the financial situation. He would sell
+the biggest farm he owned, which had been to him in its importance like
+the flour-mill itself. He had had an offer for it that very day, and
+a bigger offer still a week before. It was mortgaged to within eight
+thousand dollars of what it could be sold for but, if he could gain
+time, that eight thousand dollars would build the mill again. M. Mornay,
+the Big Financier, would certainly see that this was his due--to get
+his chance to pull things straight. Yes, he would certainly sell the
+Barbille farm to-morrow. With this thought in his mind he went to sleep
+at last, and he did not wake till the sun was high.
+
+It was a sun of the most wonderful brightness and warmth. Yesterday it
+would have made the Manor Cartier and all around it look like Arcady.
+But as it shone upon the ruins of the mill, when Jean Jacques went out
+into the working world again, it made so gaunt and hideous a picture
+that, in spite of himself, a cry of misery came from his lips.
+
+Through all the misfortunes which had come to him the outward semblance
+of things had remained, and when he went in and out of the plantation
+of the Manor Cartier, there was no physical change in the surroundings,
+which betrayed the troubles and disasters fallen upon its overlord.
+There it all was just as it had ever been, and seeming to deny that
+anything had changed in the lives of those who made the place other
+than a dead or deserted world. When Carmen went, when Zoe fled, when his
+cousin Auguste Charron took his flight, when defeats at law abashed
+him, the house and mills, and stores and offices, and goodly trees, and
+well-kept yards and barns and cattle-sheds all looked the same. Thus
+it was that he had been fortified. In one sense his miseries had seemed
+unreal, because all was the same in the outward scene. It was as though
+it all said to him: "It is a dream that those you love have vanished,
+that ill-fortune sits by your fireside. One night you will go to bed
+thinking that wife and child have gone, that your treasury is nearly
+empty; and in the morning you will wake up and find your loved ones
+sitting in their accustomed places, and your treasury will be full to
+overflowing as of old."
+
+So it was while the picture of his home scene remained unbroken and
+serene; but the hideous mass of last night's holocaust was now before
+his eyes, with little streams of smoke rising from the cindered
+pile, and a hundred things with which his eyes had been familiar lay
+distorted, excoriated and useless. He realized with sudden completeness
+that a terrible change bad come in his life, that a cyclone had ruined
+the face of his created world.
+
+This picture did more to open up Jean Jacques' eyes to his real position
+in life than anything he had experienced, than any sorrow he had
+suffered. He had been in torment in the past, but he had refused to see
+that he was in Hades. Now it was as though he had been led through the
+streets of Hell by some dark spirit, while in vain he looked round for
+his old friends Kant and Hegel, Voltaire and Rousseau and Rochefoucauld,
+Plato and Aristotle.
+
+While gazing at the dismal scene, however, and unheeding the idlers who
+poked about among the ruins, and watched him as one who was the centre
+of a drama, he suddenly caught sight of the gold Cock of Beaugard, which
+had stood on the top of the mill, in the very centre of the ruins.
+
+Yes, there it was, the crested golden cock which had typified his own
+life, as he went head high, body erect, spurs giving warning, and a
+clarion in his throat ready to blare forth at any moment. There was the
+golden Cock of Beaugard in the cinders, the ashes and the dust. His
+chin dropped on his breast, and a cloud like a fog on the coast of
+Gaspe settled round him. Yet even as his head drooped, something else
+happened--one of those trivial things which yet may be the pivot of
+great things. A cock crowed--almost in his very ear, it seemed. He
+lifted his head quickly, and a superstitious look flashed into his face.
+His eyes fastened on the burnished head of the Cock among the ruins.
+To his excited imagination it was as though the ancient symbol of
+the Barbilles had spoken to him in its own language of good cheer and
+defiance. Yes, there it was, half covered by the ruins, but its head was
+erect in the midst of fire and disaster. Brought low, it was still alert
+above the wreckage. The child, the dreamer, the optimist, the egoist,
+and the man alive in Jean Jacques sprang into vigour again. It was as
+though the Cock of Beaugard had really summoned him to action, and the
+crowing had not been that of a barnyard bantam not a hundred feet away
+from him. Jean Jacques' head went up too.
+
+"Me--I am what I always was, nothing can change me," he exclaimed
+defiantly. "I will sell the Barbille farm and build the mill again."
+
+So it was that by hook or by crook, and because the Big Financier had
+more heart than he even acknowledged to his own wife, Jean Jacques
+did sell the Barbille farm, and got in cash--in good hard cash-eight
+thousand dollars after the mortgage was paid. M. Mornay was even willing
+to take the inadequate indemnity of the insurance policy on the mill,
+and lose the rest, in order that Jean Jacques should have the eight
+thousand dollars to rebuild. This he did because Jean Jacques showed
+such amazing courage after the burning of the mill, and spread himself
+out in a greater activity than his career had yet shown. He shaved
+through this financial crisis, in spite of the blow he had received by
+the loss of his lawsuits, the flitting of his cousin, Auguste Charron,
+and the farm debts of this same cousin. It all meant a series of
+manipulations made possible by the apparent confidence reposed in him by
+M. Mornay.
+
+On the day he sold his farm he was by no means out of danger of absolute
+insolvency--he was in fact ruined; but he was not yet the victim of
+those processes which would make him legally insolvent. The vultures
+were hovering, but they had not yet swooped, and there was the Manor
+saw-mill going night and day; for by the strangest good luck Jean
+Jacques received an order for M. Mornay's new railway (Judge Carcasson
+was behind that) which would keep his saw-mill working twenty-four hours
+in the day for six months.
+
+"I like his pluck, but still, ten to one, he loses," remarked M. Mornay
+to Judge Carcasson. "He is an unlucky man, and I agree with Napoleon
+that you oughtn't to be partner with an unlucky man."
+
+"Yet you have had to do with Monsieur Jean Jacques," responded the aged
+Judge.
+
+M. Mornay nodded indulgently.
+
+"Yes, without risk, up to the burning of the mill. Now I take my
+chances, simply because I'm a fool too, in spite of all the wisdom I see
+in history and in life's experiences. I ought to have closed him up, but
+I've let him go on, you see."
+
+"You will not regret it," remarked the Judge. "He really is worth it."
+
+"But I think I will regret it financially. I think that this is the
+last flare of the ambition and energy of your Jean Jacques. That often
+happens--a man summons up all his reserves for one last effort. It's
+partly pride, partly the undefeated thing in him, partly the gambling
+spirit which seizes men when nothing is left but one great spectacular
+success or else be blotted out. That's the case with your philosopher;
+and I'm not sure that I won't lose twenty thousand dollars by him yet."
+
+"You've lost more with less justification," retorted the Judge, who, in
+his ninetieth year, was still as alive as his friend at sixty.
+
+M. Mornay waved a hand in acknowledgment, and rolled his cigar from
+corner to corner of his mouth. "Oh, I've lost a lot more in my
+time, Judge, but with a squint in my eye! But I'm doing this with no
+astigmatism. I've got the focus."
+
+The aged Judge gave a conciliatory murmur-he had a fine persuasive
+voice. "You would never be sorry for what you have done if you had known
+his daughter--his Zoe. It's the thought of her that keeps him going. He
+wants the place to be just as she left it when she comes back."
+
+"Well, well, let's hope it will. I'm giving him a chance," replied M.
+Mornay with his wineglass raised. "He's got eight thousand dollars in
+cash to build his mill again; and I hope he'll keep a tight hand on it
+till the mill is up."
+
+Keep a tight hand on it?
+
+That is what Jean Jacques meant to do; but if a man wants to keep a
+tight hand on money he should not carry it about in his pocket in cold,
+hard cash. It was a foolish whim of Jean Jacques that he must have the
+eight thousand dollars in cash--in hundred-dollar bills--and not in the
+form of a cheque; but there was something childlike in him. When, as he
+thought, he had saved himself from complete ruin, he wanted to keep and
+gloat over the trophy of victory, and his trophy was the eight thousand
+dollars got from the Barbille farm. He would have to pay out two
+thousand dollars in cash to the contractors for the rebuilding of the
+mill at once,--they were more than usually cautious--but he would have
+six thousand left, which he would put in the bank after he had let
+people see that he was well fortified with cash.
+
+The child in him liked the idea of pulling out of his pocket a few
+thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills. He had always carried a good
+deal of money loose in his pocket, and now that his resources were so
+limited he would still make a gallant show. After a week or two he would
+deposit six thousand dollars in the bank; but he was so eager to begin
+building the mill, that he paid over the stipulated two thousand dollars
+to the contractors on the very day he received the eight thousand. A few
+days later the remaining six thousand were housed in a cupboard with an
+iron door in the wall of his office at the Manor Cartier.
+
+"There, that will keep me in heart and promise," said Jean Jacques as he
+turned the key in the lock.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII. JEAN JACQUES HAS AN OFFER
+
+The day after Jean Jacques had got a new lease of life and become his
+own banker, he treated himself to one of those interludes of pleasure
+from which he had emerged in the past like a hermit from his cave. He
+sat on the hill above his lime-kilns, reading the little hand-book of
+philosophy which had played so big a part in his life. Whatever else had
+disturbed his mind and diverted him from his course, nothing had weaned
+him from this obsession. He still interlarded all his conversation with
+quotations from brilliant poseurs like Chateaubriand and Rochefoucauld,
+and from missionaries of thought like Hume and Hegel.
+
+His real joy, however, was in withdrawing for what might be called
+a seance of meditation from the world's business. Some men make
+celebration in wine, sport and adventure; but Jean Jacques made it in
+flooding his mind with streams of human thought which often tried to run
+uphill, which were frequently choked with weeds, but still were like
+the pool of Siloam to his vain mind. They bathed that vain mind in the
+illusion that it could see into the secret springs of experience.
+
+So, on as bright a day as ever the New World offered, Jean Jacques sat
+reciting to himself a spectacular bit of logic from one of his idols,
+wedged between a piece of Aristotle quartz and Plato marble. The sound
+of it was good in his ears. He mouthed it as greedily and happily
+as though he was not sitting on the edge of a volcano instead of the
+moss-grown limestone on a hill above his own manor.
+
+"The course of events in the life of a man, whatever their gravity or
+levity, are only to be valued and measured by the value and measure of
+his own soul. Thus, what in its own intrinsic origin and material
+should in all outer reason be a tragedy, does not of itself shake the
+foundations or make a fissure in the superstructure. Again--"
+
+Thus his oracle, but Jean Jacques' voice suddenly died down, for, as
+he sat there, the face of a woman made a vivid call of recognition. He
+slowly awakened from his self-hypnotism, to hear a woman speaking to
+him; to see two dark eyes looking at him from under heavy black brows
+with bright, intent friendliness.
+
+"They said at the Manor you had come this way, so I thought I'd not have
+my drive for nothing, and here I am. I wanted to say something to you,
+M'sieu' Jean Jacques."
+
+It was the widow of Palass Poucette. She looked very fresh and friendly
+indeed, and she was the very acme of neatness. If she was not handsome,
+she certainly had a true and sweet comeliness of her own, due to the
+deep rose-colour of her cheeks, the ivory whiteness round the lustrous
+brown eyes, the regular shining teeth which showed so much when she
+smiled, and the look half laughing, half sentimental which dominated
+all.
+
+Before she had finished speaking Jean Jacques was on his feet with
+his hat off. Somehow she seemed to be a part of that abstraction,
+that intoxication, in which he had just been drowning his accumulated
+anxieties. Not that Virginie Poucette was logical or philosophical, or
+a child of thought, for she was wholly the opposite-practical, sensuous,
+emotional, a child of nature and of Eve. But neither was Jean Jacques
+a real child of thought, though he made unconscious pretence of it. He
+also was a child of nature--and Adam. He thought he had the courage
+of his convictions, but it was only the courage of his emotions. His
+philosophy was but the bent or inclination of a mind with a capacity
+to feel things rather than to think them. He had feeling, the first
+essential of the philosopher, but there he stayed, an undeveloped
+chrysalis.
+
+His look was abstracted still as he took the hand of the widow of Palass
+Poucette; but he spoke cheerfully. "It is a pleasure, madame, to welcome
+you among my friends," he said.
+
+He made a little flourish with the book which had so long been his bosom
+friend, and added: "But I hope you are in no trouble that you come to
+me--so many come to me in their troubles," he continued with an air of
+satisfaction.
+
+"Come to you--why, you have enough troubles of your own!" she made
+answer. "It's because you have your own troubles that I'm here."
+
+"Why you are here," he remarked vaguely.
+
+There was something very direct and childlike in Virginie Poucette. She
+could not pretend; she wore her heart on her sleeve. She travelled a
+long distance in a little while.
+
+"I've got no trouble myself," she responded. "But, yes, I have," she
+added. "I've got one trouble--it's yours. It's that you've been having
+hard times--the flour-mill, your cousin Auguste Charron, the lawsuits,
+and all the rest. They say at Vilray that you have all you can do to
+keep out of the Bankruptcy Court, and that--"
+
+Jean Jacques started, flushed, and seemed about to get angry; but she
+put things right at once.
+
+"People talk more than they know, but there's always some fire where
+there's smoke," she hastened to explain. "Besides, your father-in-law
+babbles more than is good for him or for you. I thought at first that M.
+Dolores was a first-class kind of man, that he had had hard times too,
+and I let him come and see me; but I found him out, and that was the end
+of it, you may be sure. If you like him, I don't want to say anything
+more, but I'm sure that he's no real friend to you-or to anybody. If
+that man went to confession--but there, that's not what I've come for.
+I've come to say to you that I never felt so sorry for anyone in my life
+as I do for you. I cried all night after your beautiful mill was burned
+down. You were coming to see me next day--you remember what you said in
+M. Fille's office--but of course you couldn't. Of course, there was no
+reason why you should come to see me really--I've 'only got two hundred
+acres and the house. It's a good house, though--Palass saw to that--and
+it's insured; but still I know you'd have come just the same if I'd
+had only two acres. I know. There's hosts of people you've been good
+to here, and they're sorry for you; and I'm sorrier than any, for I'm
+alone, and you're alone, too, except for the old Dolores, and he's no
+good to either of us--mark my words, no good to you! I'm sorry for you,
+M'sieu' Jean Jacques, and I've come to say that I'm ready to lend you
+two thousand dollars, if that's any help. I could make it more if I had
+time; but sometimes money on the spot is worth a lot more than what's
+just crawling to you--snailing along while you eat your heart out. Two
+thousand dollars is two thousand dollars--I know what it's worth to me,
+though it mayn't be much to you; but I didn't earn it. It belonged to
+a first-class man, and he worked for it, and he died and left it to
+me. It's not come easy, go easy with me. I like to feel I've got two
+thousand cash without having to mortgage for it. But it belonged to
+a number-one man, a man of brains--I've got no brains, only some
+sense--and I want another good man to use it and make the world easier
+for himself."
+
+It was a long speech, and she delivered it in little gasps of oratory
+which were brightened by her wonderfully kind smile and the heart--not
+to say sentiment--which showed in her face. The sentiment, however,
+did not prejudice Jean Jacques against her, for he was a sentimentalist
+himself. His feelings were very quick, and before she had spoken fifty
+words the underglow of his eyes was flooded by something which might
+have been mistaken for tears. It was, however, only the moisture of
+gratitude and the soul's good feeling.
+
+"Well there, well there," he said when she had finished, "I've never had
+anything like this in my life before. It's the biggest thing in the
+art of being a neighbour I've ever seen. You've only been in the parish
+three years, and yet you've shown me a confidence immense, inspiring! It
+is as the Greek philosopher said, 'To conceive the human mind aright is
+the greatest gift from the gods.' And to you, who never read a line of
+philosophy, without doubt, you have done the thing that is greatest. It
+says, 'I teach neighbourliness and life's exchange.' Madame, your house
+ought to be called Neighbourhood House. It is the epitome of the spirit,
+it is the shrine of--"
+
+He was working himself up to a point where he could forget all the
+things that trouble humanity, in the inebriation of an idealistic soul
+which had a casing of passion, but the passion of the mind and not of
+the body; for Jean Jacques had not a sensual drift in his organism. If
+there had been a sensual drift, probably Carmen would still have been
+the lady of his manor, and he would still have been a magnate and not a
+potential bankrupt; for in her way Carmen had been a kind of balance to
+his judgment in the business of life, in spite of her own material and
+(at the very last) sensual strain. It was a godsend to Jean Jacques to
+have such an inspiration as Virginie Poucette had given him. He could
+not in these days, somehow, get the fires of his soul lighted, as he was
+wont to do in the old times, and he loved talking--how he loved talking
+of great things! He was really going hard, galloping strong, when
+Virginie interrupted him, first by an exclamation, then, as insistently
+he repeated the words, "It is the epitome of the spirit, the shrine
+of--"
+
+She put out a hand, interrupting him, and said: "Yes, yes, M'sieu'
+Jean Jacques, that's as good as Moliere, I s'pose, or the Archbishop at
+Quebec, but are you going to take it, the two thousand dollars? I made
+a long speech, I know, but that was to tell you why I come with the
+money"--she drew out a pocketbook--"with the order on my lawyer to hand
+the cash over to you. As a woman I had to explain to you, there being
+lots of ideas about what a woman should do and what she shouldn't do;
+but there's nothing at all for you to explain, and Mere Langlois and a
+lot of others would think I'm vain enough now without your compliments.
+I'm a neighbour if you like, and I offer you a loan. Will you take
+it--that's all?"
+
+He held out his hand in silence and took the paper from her. Putting his
+head a little on one side, he read it. At first he seemed hardly to get
+the formal language clear in his mind; however, or maybe his mind was
+still away in that abstraction into which he had whisked it when he
+began his reply to her fine offer; but he read it out aloud, first
+quickly, then very slowly, and he looked at the signature with a deeply
+meditative air.
+
+"Virginie Poucette--that's a good name," he remarked; "and also good for
+two thousand dollars!" He paused to smile contentedly over his own joke.
+"And good for a great deal more than that too," he added with a nod.
+
+"Yes, ten times as much as that," she responded quickly, her eyes fixed
+on his face. She scarcely knew herself what she was thinking when
+she said it; but most people who read this history will think she was
+hinting that her assets might be united with his, and so enable him to
+wipe out his liabilities and do a good deal more besides. Yet, how could
+that be, since Carmen Dolores was still his wife if she was alive; and
+also they both were Catholics, and Catholics did not recognize divorce!
+
+Truth is, Virginie Poucette's mind did not define her feelings at all
+clearly, or express exactly what she wanted. Her actions said one thing
+certainly; but if the question had been put to her, whether she was
+doing this thing because of a wish to take the place of Carmen Dolores
+in Jean Jacques' life she would have said no at once. She had not come
+to that--yet. She was simply moved by a sentiment of pity for Jean
+Jacques, and as she had no child, or husband, or sister, or brother, or
+father, or mother, but only relatives who tried to impose upon her, she
+needed an objective for the emotions of her nature, for the overflow of
+her unused affection and her unsatisfied maternal spirit. Here, then,
+was the most obvious opportunity--a man in trouble who had not deserved
+the bitter bad luck which had come to him. Even old Mere Langlois in the
+market-place at Vilray had admitted that, and had said the same later on
+in Virginie's home.
+
+For an instant Jean Jacques was fascinated by the sudden prospect which
+opened out before him. If he asked her, this woman would probably loan
+him five thousand dollars--and she had mentioned nothing about security!
+
+"What security do you want?" he asked in a husky voice.
+
+"Security? I don't understand about that," she replied. "I'd not offer
+you the money if I didn't think you were an honest man, and an honest
+man would pay me back. A dishonest man wouldn't pay me back, security or
+no security."
+
+"He'd have to pay you back if the security was right to start with,"
+Jean Jacques insisted. "But you don't want security, because you think
+I'm an honest man! Well, for sure you're right. I am honest. I never
+took a cent that wasn't mine; but that's not everything. If you lend
+you ought to have security. I've lost a good deal from not having
+enough security at the start. You are willing to lend me money without
+security--that's enough to make me feel thirty again, and I'm fifty--I'm
+fifty," he added, as though with an attempt to show her that she
+could not think of him in any emotional way; though the day when his
+flour-mill was burned he had felt the touch of her fingers comforting
+and thrilling.
+
+"You think Jean Jacques Barbille's word as good as his bond?" he
+continued. "So it is; but I'm going to pull this thing through alone.
+That's what I said to you and Maitre Fille at his office. I meant it
+too--help of God, it is the truth!"
+
+He had forgotten that if M. Mornay had not made it easy for him, and
+had not refrained from insisting on his pound of flesh, he would now be
+insolvent and with no roof over him. Like many another man Jean Jacques
+was the occasional slave of formula, and also the victim of phases of
+his own temperament. In truth he had not realized how big a thing M.
+Mornay had done for him. He had accepted the chance given him as the
+tribute to his own courage and enterprise and integrity, and as though
+it was to the advantage of his greatest creditor to give him another
+start; though in reality it had made no difference to the Big Financier,
+who knew his man and, with wide-open eyes, did what he had done.
+
+Virginie was not subtle. She did not understand, was never satisfied
+with allusions, and she had no gift for catching the drift of things.
+She could endure no peradventure in her conversation. She wanted plain
+speaking and to be literally sure.
+
+"Are you going to take it?" she asked abruptly.
+
+He could not bear to be checked in his course. He waved a hand and
+smiled at her. Then his eyes seemed to travel away into the distance,
+the look of the dreamer in them; but behind all was that strange, ruddy
+underglow of revelation which kept emerging from shadows, retreating and
+emerging, yet always there now, in much or in little, since the burning
+of the mill.
+
+"I've lent a good deal of money without security in my time," he
+reflected, "but the only people who ever paid me back were a deaf and
+dumb man and a flyaway--a woman that was tired of selling herself, and
+started straight and right with the money I lent her. She had been
+the wife of a man who studied with me at Laval. She paid me back every
+penny, too, year by year for five years. The rest I lent money to never
+paid; but they paid, the dummy and the harlot that was, they paid! But
+they paid for the rest also! If I had refused these two because of the
+others, I'd not be fit to visit at Neighbourhood House where Virginie
+Poucette lives."
+
+He looked closely at the order she had given him again, as though to let
+it sink in his mind and be registered for ever. "I'm going to do without
+any further use of your two thousand dollars," he continued cheer fully.
+"It has done its work. You've lent it to me, I've used it"--he put
+the hand holding it on his breast--"and I'm paying it back to you, but
+without interest." He gave the order to her.
+
+"I don't see what you mean," she said helplessly, and she looked at the
+paper, as though it had undergone some change while it was in his hand.
+
+"That you would lend it me is worth ten times two thousand to me,
+Virginie Poucette," he explained. "It gives me, not a kick from
+behind--I've not had much else lately--but it holds a light in front of
+me. It calls me. It says, 'March on, Jean Jacques--climb the mountain.'
+It summons me to dispose my forces for the campaign which will restore
+the Manor Cartier to what it has ever been since the days of the Baron
+of Beaugard. It quickens the blood at my heart. It restores--"
+
+Virginie would not allow him to go on. "You won't let me help you?
+Suppose I do lose the money--I didn't earn it; it was earned by Palass
+Poucette, and he'd understand, if he knew. I can live without the money,
+if I have to, but you would pay it back, I know. You oughtn't to take
+any extra risks. If your daughter should come back and not find you
+here, if she returned to the Manor Cartier, and--"
+
+He made an insistent gesture. "Hush! Be still, my friend--as good a
+friend as a man could have. If my Zoe came back I'd like to feel--I'd
+like to feel that I had saved things alone; that no woman's money made
+me safe. If Zoe or if--"
+
+He was going to say, "If Carmen came back," for his mind was moving in
+past scenes; but he stopped short and looked around helplessly. Then
+presently, as though by an effort, he added with a bravura note in his
+voice:
+
+"The world has been full of trouble for a long time, but there have
+always been men to say to trouble, 'I am master, I have the mind to get
+above it all.' Well, I am one of them."
+
+There was no note of vanity or bombast in his voice as he said this,
+and in his eyes that new underglow deepened and shone. Perhaps in this
+instant he saw more of his future than he would speak of to anyone on
+earth. Perhaps prevision was given him, and it was as the Big Financier
+had said to Maitre Fille, that his philosophy was now, at the last, to
+be of use to him. When his wife had betrayed him, and his wife and child
+had left him, he had said, "Moi je suis philosophe!" but he was a man
+of wealth in those days, and money soothes hurts of that kind in rare
+degree. Would he still say, whatever was yet to come, that he was a
+philosopher?
+
+"Well, I've done what I thought would help you, and I can't say more
+than that," Virginie remarked with a sigh, and there was despondency
+in her eyes. Her face became flushed, her bosom showed agitation; she
+looked at him as she had done in Maitre Fille's office, and a wave
+of feeling passed over him now, as it did then, and he remembered, in
+response to her look, the thrill of his fingers in her palm. His face
+now flushed also, and he had an impulse to ask her to sit down beside
+him. He put it away from him, however, for the present, at any rate-who
+could tell what to-morrow might bring forth!--and then he held out his
+hand to her. His voice shook a little when he spoke; but it cleared, and
+began to ring, before he had said a dozen words.
+
+"I'll never forget what you've said and done this morning, Virginie
+Poucette," he declared; "and if I break the back of the trouble that's
+in my way, and come out cock o' the walk again"--the gold Cock of
+Beaugard in the ruins near and the clarion of the bantam of his barnyard
+were in his mind and ears--"it'll be partly because of you. I hug that
+thought to me."
+
+"I could do a good deal more than that," she ventured, with a tremulous
+voice, and then she took her warm hand from his nervous grasp, and
+turned sharply into the path which led back towards the Manor. She did
+not turn around, and she walked quickly away.
+
+There was confusion in her eyes and in her mind. It would take some time
+to make the confusion into order, and she was now hot, now cold, in all
+her frame, when at last she climbed into her wagon.
+
+This physical unrest imparted itself to all she did that day. First her
+horses were driven almost at a gallop; then they were held down to a
+slow walk; then they were stopped altogether, and she sat in the shade
+of the trees on the road to her home, pondering--whispering to herself
+and pondering.
+
+As her horses were at a standstill she saw a wagon approaching.
+Instantly she touched her pair with the whip, and moved on. Before
+the approaching wagon came alongside, she knew from the grey and the
+darkbrown horses who was driving them, and she made a strong effort for
+composure. She succeeded indifferently, but her friend, Mere Langlois,
+did not notice this fact as her wagon drew near. There was excitement in
+Mere Langlois' face.
+
+"There's been a shindy at the 'Red Eagle' tavern," she said. "That
+father-in-law of M'sieu' Jean Jacques and Rocque Valescure, the
+landlord, they got at each other's throats. Dolores hit Valescure on the
+head with a bottle."
+
+"He didn't kill Valescure, did he?"
+
+"Not that--no. But Valescure is hurt bad--as bad. It was six to one and
+half a dozen to the other--both no good at all. But of course they'll
+arrest the old man--your great friend! He'll not give you any more
+fur-robes, that's sure. He got away from the tavern, though, and he's
+hiding somewhere. M'sieu' Jean Jacques can't protect him now; he isn't
+what he once was in the parish. He's done for, and old Dolores will have
+to go to trial. They'll make it hot for him when they catch him. No
+more fur-robes from your Spanish friend, Virginie! You'll have to look
+somewhere else for your beaux, though to be sure there are enough that'd
+be glad to get you with that farm of yours, and your thrifty ways, if
+you keep your character."
+
+Virginie was quite quiet now. The asperity and suggestiveness of the
+other's speech produced a cooling effect upon her.
+
+"Better hurry, Mere Langlois, or everybody won't hear your story before
+sundown. If your throat gets tired, there's Brown's Bronchial Troches--"
+She pointed to an advertisement on the fence near by. "M. Fille's cook
+says they cure a rasping throat."
+
+With that shot, Virginie Poucette whipped up her horses and drove on.
+She did not hear what Mere Langlois called after her, for Mere Langlois
+had been slow to recover from the unexpected violence dealt by one whom
+she had always bullied.
+
+"Poor Jean Jacques!" said Virginie Poucette to herself as her horses
+ate up the ground. "That's another bit of bad luck. He'll not sleep
+to-night. Ah, the poor Jean Jacques--and all alone--not a hand to hold;
+no one to rumple that shaggy head of his or pat him on the back! His
+wife and Ma'm'selle Zoe, they didn't know a good thing when they had it.
+No, he'll not sleep to-night-ah, my dear Jean Jacques!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX. SEBASTIAN DOLORES DOES NOT SLEEP
+
+But Jean Jacques did sleep well that night; though it would have been
+better for him if he had not done so. The contractor's workmen had
+arrived in the early afternoon, he had seen the first ton of debris
+removed from the ruins of the historic mill, and it was crowned by the
+gold Cock of Beaugard, all grimy with the fire, but jaunty as of yore.
+The cheerfulness of the workmen, who sang gaily an old chanson of
+mill-life as they tugged at the timbers and stones, gave a fillip to the
+spirits of Jean Jacques, to whom had come a red-letter day.
+
+Like Mirza on the high hill of Bagdad he had had his philosophic
+meditations; his good talk with Virginie Poucette had followed; and the
+woman of her lingered in the feeling of his hand all day, as something
+kind and homelike and true. Also in the evening had come M. Fille, who
+brought him a message from Judge Carcasson, that he must make the world
+sing for himself again.
+
+Contrary to what Mere Langlois had thought, he had not been perturbed by
+the parish noise about the savage incident at "The Red Eagle," and the
+desperate affair which would cause the arrest of his father-in-law. He
+was at last well inclined to be rid of Sebastian Dolores, who had ceased
+to be a comfort to him, and who brought him hateful and not kindly
+memories of his lost women, and the happy hours of the past they
+represented.
+
+M. Fille had come to the Manor in much alarm, lest the news of the
+miserable episode at "The Red Eagle" should bring Jean Jacques down
+again to the depths. He was infinitely relieved, however, to find that
+the lord of the Manor Cartier seemed only to be grateful that Sebastian
+Dolores did not return, and nodded emphatically when M. Fille remarked
+that perhaps it would be just as well if he never did return.
+
+As M. Fille sat with his host at the table in the sunset light, Jean
+Jacques seemed quieter and steadier of body and mind than he had been
+for a long, long time. He even drank three glasses of the cordial which
+Mere Langlois had left for him, with the idea that it might comfort him
+when he got the bad news about Sebastian Dolores; and parting with M.
+Fille at the door, he waved a hand and said: "Well, good-night, master
+of the laws. Safe journey! I'm off to bed, and I'll sleep without
+rocking, that's very sure and sweet."
+
+He stood and waved his hand several times to M. Fille--till he was
+out of sight indeed; and the Clerk of the Court smiled to himself long
+afterwards, recalling Jean Jacques' cheerful face as he had seen it at
+their parting in the gathering dusk. As for Jean Jacques, when he locked
+up the house at ten o'clock, with Dolores still absent, he had the air
+of a man from whose shoulders great weights had fallen.
+
+"Now I've shut the door on him, it'll stay shut," he said firmly. "Let
+him go back to work. He's no good here to me, to himself, or to anyone.
+And that business of the fur-robe and Virginie Poucette--ah, that!"
+
+He shook his head angrily, then seeing the bottle of cordial still
+uncorked on the sideboard, he poured some out and drank it very slowly,
+till his eyes were on the ceiling above him and every drop had gone
+home. Presently, with the bedroom lamp in his hand, he went upstairs,
+humming to himself the chanson the workmen had sung that afternoon as
+they raised again the walls of the mill:
+
+          "Distaff of flax flowing behind her
+          Margatton goes to the mill
+          On the old grey ass she goes,
+          The flour of love it will blind her
+          Ah, the grist the devil will grind her,
+          When Margatton goes to the mill!
+          On the old grey ass she goes,
+          And the old grey ass, he knows!"
+
+He liked the sound of his own voice this night of his Reconstruction
+Period--or such it seemed to him; and he thought that no one heard
+his singing save himself. There, however, he was mistaken. Someone was
+hidden in the house--in the big kitchen-bunk which served as a bed or
+a seat, as needed. This someone had stolen in while Jean Jacques and M.
+Fille were at supper. His name was Dolores, and he had a horse just over
+the hill near by, to serve him when his work was done, and he could get
+away.
+
+The constables of Vilray had twice visited the Manor to arrest him that
+day, but they had been led in another direction by a clue which he had
+provided; and afterwards in the dusk he had doubled back and hid himself
+under Jean Jacques' roof. He had very important business at the Manor
+Cartier.
+
+Jean Jacques' voice ceased one song, and then, after a silence, it took
+up another, not so melodious. Sebastian Dolores had impatiently waited
+for this later "musicale" to begin--he had heard it often before; and
+when it was at last a regular succession of nasal explosions, he crawled
+out and began to do the business which had brought him to the Manor
+Cartier.
+
+He did it all alone and with much skill; for when he was an anarchist in
+Spain, those long years ago, he had learned how to use tools with expert
+understanding. Of late, Spain had been much in his mind. He wanted to go
+back there. Nostalgia had possessed him ever since he had come again to
+the Manor Cartier after Zoe had left. He thought much of Spain, and but
+little of his daughter. Memory of her was only poignant, in so far as it
+was associated with the days preceding the wreck of the Antoine. He
+had had far more than enough of the respectable working life of the New
+World; but there never was sufficient money to take him back to Europe,
+even were it safe to go. Of late, however, he felt sure that he might
+venture, if he could only get cash for the journey. He wanted to drift
+back to the idleness and adventure and the "easy money" of the old
+anarchist days in Cadiz and Madrid. He was sick for the patio and the
+plaza, for the bull-fight, for the siesta in the sun, for the lazy
+glamour of the gardens and the red wine of Valladolid, for the redolent
+cigarette of the roadside tavern. This cold iron land had spoiled him,
+and he would strive to get himself home again before it was too late.
+In Spain there would always be some woman whom he could cajole; some
+comrade whom he could betray; some priest whom he could deceive,
+whose pocket he could empty by the recital of his troubles. But if,
+peradventure, he returned to Spain with money to spare in his pocket,
+how easy indeed it would all be, and how happy he would find himself
+amid old surroundings and old friends!
+
+The way had suddenly opened up to him when Jean Jacques had brought home
+in hard cash, and had locked away in the iron-doored cupboard in
+the officewall, his last, his cherished, eight thousand dollars. Six
+thousand of that eight were still left, and it was concern for this six
+thousand which had brought Dolores to the Manor this night when Jean
+Jacques snored so loudly. The events of the day at "The Red Eagle" had
+brought things to a crisis in the affairs of Carmen's father. It was a
+foolish business that at the tavern--so, at any rate, he thought, when
+it was all over, and he was awake to the fact that he must fly or go to
+jail. From the time he had, with a bottle of gin, laid Valescure low,
+Spain was the word which went ringing through his head, and the way to
+Spain was by the Six Thousand Dollar Route, the New World terminal of
+which was the cupboard in the wall at the Manor Cartier.
+
+Little cared Sebastian Dolores that the theft of the money would mean
+the end of all things for Jean Jacques Barbille-for his own daughter's
+husband. He was thinking of himself, as he had always done.
+
+He worked for two whole hours before he succeeded in quietly forcing
+open the iron door in the wall; but it was done at last. Curiously
+enough, Jean Jacques' snoring stopped on the instant that Sebastian
+Dolores' fingers clutched the money; but it began cheerfully again when
+the door in the wall closed once more.
+
+Five minutes after Dolores had thrust the six thousand dollars into his
+pocket, his horse was galloping away over the hills towards the River
+St. Lawrence. If he had luck, he would reach it by the morning. As it
+happened, he had the luck. Behind him, in the Manor Cartier, the man
+who had had no luck and much philosophy, snored on till morning in
+unconscious content.
+
+It was a whole day before Jean Jacques discovered his loss. When he had
+finished his lonely supper the next evening, he went to the cupboard in
+his office to cheer himself with the sight of the six thousand dollars.
+He felt that he must revive his spirits. They had been drooping all day,
+he knew not why.
+
+When he saw the empty pigeon-hole in the cupboard, his sight swam. It
+was some time before it cleared, but, when it did, and he knew beyond
+peradventure the crushing, everlasting truth, not a sound escaped him.
+His heart stood still. His face filled with a panic confusion. He seemed
+like one bereft of understanding.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX. "AU 'VOIR, M'SIEU' JEAN JACQUES"
+
+It is seldom that Justice travels as swiftly as Crime, and it is also
+seldom that the luck is more with the law than with the criminal. It
+took the parish of St. Saviour's so long to make up its mind who stole
+Jean Jacques' six thousand dollars, that when the hounds got the scent
+at last the quarry had reached the water--in other words, Sebastian
+Dolores had achieved the St. Lawrence. The criminal had had near a day's
+start before a telegram was sent to the police at Montreal, Quebec, and
+other places to look out for the picaroon who had left his mark on the
+parish of St. Saviour's. The telegram would not even then have been sent
+had it not been for M. Fille, who, suspecting Sebastian Dolores, still
+refrained from instant action. This he did because he thought Jean
+Jacques would not wish his beloved Zoe's grandfather sent to prison. But
+when other people at last declared that it must have been Dolores,
+M. Fille insisted on telegrams being sent by the magistrate at Vilray
+without Jean Jacques' consent. He had even urged the magistrate to
+"rush" the wire, because it came home to him with stunning force that,
+if the money was not recovered, Jean Jacques would be a beggar. It was
+better to jail the father-in-law, than for the little money-master to
+take to the road a pauper, or stay on at St. Saviour's as an underling
+where he had been overlord.
+
+As for Jean Jacques, in his heart of hearts he knew who had robbed him.
+He realized that it was one of the radii of the comedy-tragedy which
+began on the Antoine, so many years before; and it had settled in his
+mind at last that Sebastian Dolores was but part of the dark machinery
+of fate, and that what was now had to be.
+
+For one whole day after the robbery he was like a man
+paralysed--dispossessed of active being; but when his creditors began
+to swarm, when M. Mornay sent his man of business down to foreclose his
+mortgages before others could take action, Jean Jacques waked from his
+apathy. He began an imitation of his old restlessness, and made essay
+again to pull the strings of his affairs. They were, however, so
+confused that a pull at one string tangled them all.
+
+When the constables and others came to him, and said that they were on
+the trail of the robber, and that the rogue would be caught, he nodded
+his head encouragingly; but he was sure in his own mind that the flight
+of Dolores would be as successful as that of Carmen and Zoe.
+
+This is the way he put it: "That man--we will just miss finding him, as
+I missed Zoe at the railroad junction when she went away, as I missed
+catching Carmen at St. Chrisanthine. When you are at the shore, he will
+be on the river; when you are getting into the train, he will be getting
+out. It is the custom of the family. At Bordeaux, the Spanish detectives
+were on the shore gnashing their teeth, when he was a hundred yards away
+at sea on the Antoine. They missed him like that; and we'll miss him
+too. What is the good! It was not his fault--that was the way of his
+bringing up beyond there at Cadiz, where they think more of a toreador
+than of John the Baptist. It was my fault. I ought to have banked the
+money. I ought not to have kept it to look at like a gamin with his
+marbles. There it was in the wall; and there was Dolores a long way from
+home and wanting to get back. He found the way by a gift of the tools;
+and I wish I had the same gift now; for I've got no other gift that'll
+earn anything for me."
+
+These were the last dark or pessimistic words spoken at St. Saviour's
+by Jean Jacques; and they were said to the Clerk of the Court, who
+could not deny the truth of them; but he wrung the hand of Jean Jacques
+nevertheless, and would not leave him night or day. M. Fille was like a
+little cruiser protecting a fort when gunboats swarm near, not daring to
+attack till their battleship heaves in sight. The battleship was the
+Big Financier, who saw that a wreck was now inevitable, and was only
+concerned that there should be a fair distribution of the assets. That
+meant, of course, that he should be served first, and then that those
+below the salt should get a share.
+
+Revelation after revelation had been Jean Jacques' lot of late years,
+but the final revelation of his own impotence was overwhelming. When he
+began to stir about among his affairs, he was faced by the fact that
+the law stood in his way. He realized with inward horror his shattered
+egotism and natural vanity; he saw that he might just as well be in
+jail; that he had no freedom; that he could do nothing at all in regard
+to anything he owned; that he was, in effect, a prisoner of war where he
+had been the general commanding an army.
+
+Yet the old pride intervened, and it was associated with some innate
+nobility; for from the hour in which it was known that Sebastian Dolores
+had escaped in a steamer bound for France, and could not be overhauled,
+and the chances were that he would never have to yield up the six
+thousand dollars, Jean Jacques bustled about cheerfully, and as though
+he had still great affairs of business to order and regulate. It was a
+make-believe which few treated with scorn. Even the workmen at the mill
+humoured him, as he came several times every day to inspect the work
+of rebuilding; and they took his orders, though they did not carry
+them out. No one really carried out any of his orders except Seraphe
+Corniche, who, weeping from morning till night, protested that there
+never was so good a man as M'sieu' Jean Jacques; and she cooked his
+favourite dishes, giving him no peace until he had eaten them.
+
+The days, the weeks went on, with Jean Jacques growing thinner and
+thinner, but going about with his head up like the gold Cock of
+Beaugard, and even crowing now and then, as he had done of yore. He
+faced the inevitable with something of his old smiling volubility;
+treating nothing of his disaster as though it really existed; signing
+off this asset and that; disposing of this thing and that; stripping
+himself bare of all the properties on his life's stage, in such a manner
+as might have been his had he been receiving gifts and not yielding up
+all he owned. He chatted as his belongings were, figuratively speaking,
+being carried away--as though they were mechanical, formal things to
+be done as he had done them every day of a fairly long life; as a clerk
+would check off the boxes or parcels carried past him by the porters.
+M. Fille could hardly bear to see him in this mood, and the New Cure
+hovered round him with a mournful and harmlessly deceptive kindness. But
+the end had to come, and practically all the parish was present when it
+came. That was on the day when the contents of the Manor were sold at
+auction by order of the Court. One thing Jean Jacques refused absolutely
+and irrevocably to do from the first--refused it at last in anger and
+even with an oath: he would not go through the Bankruptcy Court. No
+persuasion had any effect. The very suggestion seemed to smirch his
+honour. His lawyer pleaded with him, said he would be able to save
+something out of the wreck, and that his creditors would be willing that
+he should take advantage of the privileges of that court; but he only
+said in reply:
+
+"Thank you, thank you altogether, monsieur, but it is impossible--'non
+possumus, non possumus, my son,' as the Pope said to Bonaparte. I owe
+and I will pay what I can; and what I can't pay now I will try to pay
+in the future, by the cent, by the dollar, till all is paid to the last
+copper. It is the way with the Barbilles. They have paid their way and
+their debts in honour, and it is in the bond with all the Barbilles of
+the past that I do as they do. If I can't do it, then that I have tried
+to do it will be endorsed on the foot of the bill."
+
+No one could move him, not even Judge Carcasson, who from his armchair
+in Montreal wrote a feeble-handed letter begging him to believe that
+it was "well within his rights as a gentleman"--this he put in at
+the request of M. Mornay--to take advantage of the privileges of
+the Bankruptcy Court. Even then Jean Jacques had only a few moments'
+hesitation. What the Judge said made a deep impression; but he had
+determined to drink the cup of his misfortune to the dregs. He was set
+upon complete renunciation; on going forth like a pilgrim from the place
+of his troubles and sorrows, taking no gifts, no mercies save those
+which heaven accorded him.
+
+When the day of the auction came everything went. Even his best suit
+of clothes was sold to a blacksmith, while his fur-coat was bought by a
+horse-doctor for fifteen dollars. Things that had been part of his life
+for a generation found their way into hands where he would least have
+wished them to go--of those who had been envious of him, who had cheated
+or deceived him, of people with whom he had had nothing in common. The
+red wagon and the pair of little longtailed stallions, which he had
+driven for six years, were bought by the owner of a rival flour-mill in
+the parish of Vilray; but his best sleigh, with its coon-skin robes,
+was bought by the widow of Palass Poucette, who bought also the famous
+bearskin which Dolores had given her at Jean Jacques' expense, and had
+been returned by her to its proper owner. The silver fruitdish, once (it
+was said) the property of the Baron of Beaugard, which each generation
+of Barbilles had displayed with as much ceremony as though it was a
+chalice given by the Pope, went to Virginie Poucette. Virginie also
+bought the furniture from Zoe's bedroom as it stood, together with the
+little upright piano on which she used to play. The Cure bought Jean
+Jacques' writing-desk, and M. Fille purchased his armchair, in which had
+sat at least six Barbilles as owners of the Manor. The beaver-hat which
+Jean Jacques wore on state occasions, as his grandfather had done,
+together with the bonnet rouge of the habitant, donned by him in his
+younger days--they fell to the nod of Mere Langlois, who declared that,
+as she was a cousin, she would keep the things in the family. Mere
+Langlois would have bought the fruit-dish also if she could have
+afforded to bid against Virginie Poucette; but the latter would have had
+the dish if it had cost her two hundred dollars. The only time she
+had broken bread in Jean Jacques' house, she had eaten cake from
+this fruit-dish; and to her, as to the parish generally, the dish so
+beautifully shaped, with its graceful depth and its fine-chased handles,
+was symbol of the social caste of the Barbilles, as the gold Cock of
+Beaugard was sign of their civic and commercial glory.
+
+Jean Jacques, who had moved about all day with an almost voluble
+affability, seeming not to realize the tragedy going on, or, if he
+realized it, rising superior to it, was noticed to stand still suddenly
+when the auctioneer put up the fruit-dish for sale. Then the smile left
+his face, and the reddish glow in his eyes, which had been there since
+the burning of the mill, fled, and a touch of amazement and confusion
+took its place. All in a moment he was like a fluttered dweller of the
+wilds to whom comes some tremor of danger.
+
+His mouth opened as though he would forbid the selling of the heirloom;
+but it closed again, because he knew he had no right to withhold it from
+the hammer; and he took on a look like that which comes to the eyes of a
+child when it faces humiliating denial. Quickly as it came, however, it
+vanished, for he remembered that he could buy the dish himself. He could
+buy it himself and keep it.... Yet what could he do with it? Even so, he
+could keep it. It could still be his till better days came.
+
+The auctioneer's voice told off the value of the fruitdish--"As an
+heirloom, as an antique; as a piece of workmanship impossible of
+duplication in these days of no handicraft; as good pure silver, bearing
+the head of Louis Quinze--beautiful, marvellous, historic, honourable,"
+and Jean Jacques made ready to bid. Then he remembered he had no
+money--he who all his life had been able to take a roll of bills from
+his pocket as another man took a packet of letters. His glance fell
+in shame, and the words died on his lips, even as M. Manotel, the
+auctioneer, was about to add another five-dollar bid to the price, which
+already was standing at forty dollars.
+
+It was at this moment Jean Jacques heard a woman's voice bidding, then
+two women's voices. Looking up he saw that one of the women was Mere
+Langlois and the other was Virginie Poucette, who had made the first
+bid. For a moment they contended, and then Mere Langlois fell out of
+the contest, and Virginie continued it with an ambitious farmer from the
+next county, who was about to become a Member of Parliament. Presently
+the owner of a river pleasure-steamer entered into the costly emulation
+also, but he soon fell away; and Virginie Poucette stubbornly raised
+the bidding by five dollars each time, till the silver symbol of the
+Barbilles' pride had reached one hundred dollars. Then she raised the
+price by ten dollars, and her rival, seeing that he was face to face
+with a woman who would now bid till her last dollar was at stake,
+withdrew; and Virginie was left triumphant with the heirloom.
+
+At the moment when Virginie turned away with the handsome dish from M.
+Manotel, and the crowd cheered her gaily, she caught Jean-Jacques' eye,
+and she came straight towards him. She wanted to give the dish to him
+then and there; but she knew that this would provide annoying gossip for
+many a day, and besides, she thought he would refuse. More than that,
+she had in her mind another alternative which might in the end secure
+the heirloom to him, in spite of all. As she passed him, she said:
+
+"At least we keep it in the parish. If you don't have it, well, then..."
+
+She paused, for she did not quite know what to say unless she spoke what
+was really in her mind, and she dared not do that.
+
+"But you ought to have an heirloom," she added, leaving unsaid what was
+her real thought and hope. With sudden inspiration, for he saw she was
+trying to make it easy for him, he drew the great silver-watch from his
+pocket, which the head of the Barbilles had worn for generations, and
+said:
+
+"I have the only heirloom I could carry about with me. It will keep time
+for me as long as I'll last. The Manor clock strikes the time for the
+world, and this watch is set by the Manor clock."
+
+"Well said--well and truly said, M'sieu' Jean Jacques," remarked the
+lean watchmaker and so-called jeweller of Vilray, who stood near. "It is
+a watch which couldn't miss the stroke of Judgment Day."
+
+It was at that moment, in the sunset hour, when the sale had drawn to a
+close, and the people had begun to disperse, that the avocat of Vilray
+who represented the Big Financier came to Jean Jacques and said:
+
+"M'sieu', I have to say that there is due to you three hundred and fifty
+dollars from the settlement, excluding this sale, which will just do
+what was expected of it. I am instructed to give it to you from the
+creditors. Here it is."
+
+He took out a roll of bills and offered it to Jean Jacques.
+
+"What creditors?" asked Jean Jacques.
+
+"All the creditors," responded the other, and he produced a receipt for
+Jean Jacques to sign. "A formal statement will be sent you, and if there
+is any more due to you, it will be added then. But now--well, there it
+is, the creditors think there is no reason for you to wait."
+
+Jean Jacques did not yet take the roll of bills. "They come from M.
+Mornay?" he asked with an air of resistance, for he did not wish to be
+under further obligations to the man who would lose most by him.
+
+The lawyer was prepared. M. Mornay had foreseen the timidity
+and sensitiveness of Jean Jacques, had anticipated his mistaken
+chivalry--for how could a man decline to take advantage of the
+Bankruptcy Court unless he was another Don Quixote! He had therefore
+arranged with all the creditors for them to take responsibility with
+'himself, though he provided the cash which manipulated this settlement.
+
+"No, M'sieu' Jean Jacques," the lawyer replied, "this comes from all the
+creditors, as the sum due to you from all the transactions, so far as
+can be seen as yet. Further adjustment may be necessary, but this is the
+interim settlement."
+
+Jean Jacques was far from being ignorant of business, but so bemused was
+his judgment and his intelligence now, that he did not see there was
+no balance which could possibly be his, since his liabilities vastly
+exceeded his assets. Yet with a wave of the hand he accepted the roll of
+bills, and signed the receipt with an air which said, "These forms must
+be observed, I suppose."
+
+What he would have done if the three hundred and fifty dollars had not
+been given him, it would be hard to say, for with gentle asperity he
+had declined a loan from his friend M. Fille, and he had but one silver
+dollar in his pocket, or in the world. Indeed, Jean Jacques was living
+in a dream in these dark days--a dream of renunciation and sacrifice,
+and in the spirit of one who gives up all to some great cause. He was
+not yet even face to face with the fulness of his disaster. Only at
+moments had the real significance of it all come to him, and then he had
+shivered as before some terror menacing his path. Also, as M. Mornay had
+said, his philosophy was now in his bones and marrow rather than in his
+words. It had, after all, tinctured his blood and impregnated his mind.
+He had babbled and been the egotist, and played cock o' the walk; and
+now at last his philosophy was giving some foundation for his feet.
+Yet at this auction-sale he looked a distracted, if smiling, whimsical,
+rather bustling figure of misfortune, with a tragic air of exile, of
+isolation from all by which he was surrounded. A profound and wayworn
+loneliness showed in his figure, in his face, in his eyes.
+
+The crowd thinned in time, and yet very many lingered to see the last
+of this drama of lost fortunes. A few of the riff-raff, who invariably
+attend these public scenes, were now rather the worse for drink,
+from the indifferent liquor provided by the auctioneer, and they were
+inclined to horseplay and coarse chaff. More than one ribald reference
+to Jean Jacques had been checked by his chivalrous fellow-citizens;
+indeed, M. Fille had almost laid himself open to a charge of assault
+in his own court by raising his stick at a loafer, who made insulting
+references to Jean Jacques. But as the sale drew to a close, an air of
+rollicking humour among the younger men would not be suppressed, and it
+looked as though Jean Jacques' exit would be attended by the elements of
+farce and satire.
+
+In this world, however, things do not happen logically, and Jean Jacques
+made his exit in a wholly unexpected manner. He was going away by the
+train which left a new railway junction a few miles off, having gently
+yet firmly declined M. Fille's invitation, and also the invitations of
+others--including the Cure and Mere Langlois--to spend the night with
+them and start off the next day. He elected to go on to Montreal that
+very night, and before the sale was quite finished he prepared to start.
+His carpet-bag containing a few clothes and necessaries had been sent on
+to the junction, and he meant to walk to the station in the cool of the
+evening.
+
+M. Manotel, the auctioneer, hoarse with his heavy day's work, was
+announcing that there were only a few more things to sell, and no doubt
+they could be had at a bargain, when Jean Jacques began a tour of
+the Manor. There was something inexpressibly mournful in this lonely
+pilgrimage of the dismantled mansion. Yet there was no show of cheap
+emotion by Jean Jacques; and a wave of the hand prevented any one from
+following him in his dry-eyed progress to say farewell to these haunts
+of childhood, manhood, family, and home. There was a strange numbness
+in his mind and body, and he had a feeling that he moved immense and
+reflective among material things. Only tragedy can produce that feeling.
+Happiness makes the universe infinite and stupendous, despair makes it
+small and even trivial.
+
+It was when he had reached the little office where he had done the
+business of his life--a kind of neutral place where he had ever isolated
+himself from the domestic scene--that the final sensation, save one, of
+his existence at the Manor came to him. Virginie Poucette had divined
+his purpose when he began the tour of the house, and going by a
+roundabout way, she had placed herself where she could speak with him
+alone before he left the place for ever--if that was to be. She was not
+sure that his exit was really inevitable--not yet.
+
+When Jean Jacques saw Virginie standing beside the table in his office
+where he lead worked over so many years, now marked Sold, and waiting to
+be taken away by its new owner, he started and drew back, but she held
+out her hand and said:
+
+"But one word, M'sieu' Jean Jacques; only one word from a friend--indeed
+a friend."
+
+"A friend of friends," he answered, still in abstraction, his eyes
+having that burnished light which belonged to the night of the fire; but
+yet realizing that she was a sympathetic soul who had offered to lend
+him money without security.
+
+"Oh, indeed yes, as good a friend as you can ever have!" she added.
+
+Something had waked the bigger part of her, which had never been awake
+in the days of Palass Poucette. Jean Jacques was much older than she,
+but what she felt had nothing to do with age, or place or station. It
+had only to do with understanding, with the call of nature and of a
+motherhood crying for expression. Her heart ached for him.
+
+"Well, good-bye, my friend," he said, and held out his hand. "I must be
+going now."
+
+"Wait," she said, and there was something insistent and yet pleading in
+her voice. "I've got something to say. You must hear it.... Why should
+you go? There is my farm--it needs to be worked right. It has got
+good chances. It has water-power and wood and the best flax in the
+province--they want to start a flax-mill on it--I've had letters from
+big men in Montreal. Well, why shouldn't you do it instead? There it is,
+the farm, and there am I a woman alone. I need help. I've got no head.
+I have to work at a sum of figures all night to get it straight.... Ah,
+m'sieu', it is a need both sides! You want someone to look after you;
+you want a chance again to do things; but you want someone to look
+after you, and it is all waiting there on the farm. Palass Poucette
+left behind him seven sound horses, and cows and sheep, and a
+threshing-machine and a fanning-mill, and no debts, and two thousand
+dollars in the bank. You will never do anything away from here. You must
+stay here, where--where I can look after you, Jean Jacques."
+
+The light in his eyes flamed up, died down, flamed up again, and
+presently it covered all his face, as he grasped what she meant.
+
+"Wonder of God, do you forget?" he asked. "I am married--married still,
+Virginie Poucette. There is no divorce in the Catholic Church--no, none
+at all. It is for ever and ever."
+
+"I said nothing about marriage," she said bravely, though her face
+suffused.
+
+"Hand of Heaven, what do you mean? You mean to say you would do that for
+me in spite of the Cure and--and everybody and everything?"
+
+"You ought to be taken care of," she protested. "You ought to have your
+chance again. No one here is free to do it all but me. You are alone.
+Your wife that was--maybe she is dead. I am alone, and I'm not afraid of
+what the good God will say. I will settle with Him myself. Well, then,
+do you think I'd care what--what Mere Langlois or the rest of the world
+would say?... I can't bear to think of you going away with nothing, with
+nobody, when here is something and somebody--somebody who would be good
+to you. Everybody knows that you've been badly used--everybody. I'm
+young enough to make things bright and warm in your life, and the place
+is big enough for two, even if it isn't the Manor Cartier."
+
+"Figure de Christ, do you think I'd let you do it--me?" declared Jean
+Jacques, with lips trembling now and his shoulders heaving. Misfortune
+and pain and penalty he could stand, but sacrifice like this and--and
+whatever else it was, were too much for him. They brought him back to
+the dusty road and everyday life again; they subtracted him from his
+big dream, in which he had been detached from the details of his
+catastrophe.
+
+"No, no, no," he added. "You go look another way, Virginie. Turn your
+face to the young spring, not to the dead winter. To-morrow I'll be gone
+to find what I've got to find. I've finished here, but there's many a
+good man waiting for you--men who'll bring you something worth while
+besides themselves. Make no mistake, I've finished. I've done my term
+of life. I'm only out on ticket-of-leave now--but there, enough, I shall
+always want to think of you. I wish I had something to give you--but
+yes, here is something." He drew from his pocket a silver napkin-ring.
+"I've had that since I was five years old. My uncle Stefan gave it to
+me. I've always used it. I don't know why I put it in my pocket this
+morning, but I did. Take it. It's more than money. It's got something
+of Jean Jacques about it. You've got the Barbille fruit-dish-that is a
+thing I'll remember. I'm glad you've got it, and--"
+
+"I meant we should both eat from it," she said helplessly.
+
+"It would cost too much to eat from it with you, Virginie--"
+
+He stopped short, choked, then his face cleared, and his eyes became
+steady.
+
+"Well then, good-bye, Virginie," he said, holding out his hand.
+
+"You don't think I'd say to any other living man what I've said to you?"
+she asked.
+
+He nodded understandingly. "That's the best part of it. It was for me
+of all the world," he answered. "When I look back, I'll see the light
+in your window--the light you lit for the lost one--for Jean Jacques
+Barbille."
+
+Suddenly, with eyes that did not see and hands held out before him, he
+turned, felt for the door and left the room.
+
+She leaned helplessly against the table. "The poor Jean Jacques--the
+poor Jean Jacques!" she murmured. "Cure or no Cure, I'd have done it,"
+she declared, with a ring to her voice. "Ah, but Jean Jacques, come with
+me!" she added with a hungry and compassionate gesture, speaking into
+space. "I could make life worth while for us both."
+
+A moment later Virginie was outside, watching the last act in the career
+of Jean Jacques in the parish of St. Saviour's.
+
+This was what she saw.
+
+The auctioneer was holding up a bird-cage containing a canary-Carmen's
+bird-cage, and Zoe's canary which had remained to be a vocal memory of
+her in her old home.
+
+"Here," said the rhetorical, inflammable auctioneer, "here is the
+choicest lot left to the last. I put it away in the bakery, meaning to
+sell it at noon, when everybody was eating-food for the soul and food
+for the body. I forgot it. But here it is, worth anything you like to
+anybody that loves the beautiful, the good, and the harmonious. What do
+I hear for this lovely saffron singer from the Elysian fields? What did
+the immortal poet of France say of the bird in his garret, in 'L'Oiseau
+de Mon Crenier'? What did he say:
+
+          'Sing me a song of the bygone hour,
+          A song of the stream and the sun;
+          Sing of my love in her bosky bower,
+          When my heart it was twenty-one.'
+
+"Come now, who will renew his age or regale her youth with the divine
+notes of nature's minstrel? Who will make me an offer for this vestal
+virgin of song--the joy of the morning and the benediction of the
+evening? What do I hear? The best of the wine to the last of the feast!
+What do I hear?--five dollars--seven dollars--nine dollars--going at
+nine dollars--ten dollars--Well, ladies and gentlemen, the bird can
+sing--ah, voila!"
+
+He stopped short for a moment, for as the evening sun swept its veil
+of rainbow radiance over the scene, the bird began to sing. Its little
+throat swelled, it chirruped, it trilled, it called, it soared, it lost
+itself in a flood of ecstasy. In the applausive silence, the emotional
+recess of the sale, as it were, the man to whom the bird and the song
+meant most, pushed his way up to the stand where M. Manotel stood. When
+the people saw who it was, they fell back, for there was that in his
+face which needed no interpretation. It filled them with a kind of awe.
+
+He reached up a brown, eager, affectionate hand--it had always been
+that--fat and small, but rather fine and certainly emotional, though not
+material or sensual.
+
+"Go on with your bidding," he said.
+
+He was going to buy the thing which had belonged to his daughter, was
+beloved by her--the living oracle of the morning, the muezzin of his
+mosque of home. It had been to the girl who had gone as another such a
+bird had been to the mother of the girl, the voice that sang, "Praise
+God," in the short summer of that bygone happiness of his. Even this
+cage and its homebird were not his; they belonged to the creditors.
+
+"Go on. I buy--I bid," Jean Jacques said in a voice that rang. It had
+no blur of emotion. It had resonance. The hammer that struck the bell of
+his voice was the hammer of memory, and if it was plaintive it also was
+clear, and it was also vibrant with the silver of lost hopes.
+
+M. Manotel humoured him, while the bird still sang. "Four dollars--five
+dollars: do I hear no more than five dollars?--going once, going twice,
+going three times--gone!" he cried, for no one had made a further bid;
+and indeed M. Manotel would not have heard another voice than Jean
+Jacques' if it had been as loud as the falls of the Saguenay. He was a
+kind of poet in his way, was M. Manotel. He had been married four times,
+and he would be married again if he had the chance; also he wrote verses
+for tombstones in the churchyard at St. Saviour's, and couplets for
+fetes and weddings.
+
+He handed the cage to Jean Jacques, who put it down on the ground at his
+feet, and in an instant had handed up five dollars for one of the idols
+of his own altar. Anyone else than M. Manotel, or perhaps M. Fille or
+the New Cure, would have hesitated to take the five dollars, or, if they
+had done so, would have handed it back; but they had souls to
+understand this Jean Jacques, and they would not deny him his insistent
+independence. And so, in a moment, he was making his way out of the
+crowd with the cage in his hand, the bird silent now.
+
+As he went, some one touched his arm and slipped a book into his hand.
+It was M. Fille, and the book was his little compendium of philosophy
+which his friend had retrieved from his bedroom in the early morning.
+
+"You weren't going to forget it, Jean Jacques?" M. Fille said
+reproachfully. "It is an old friend. It would not be happy with any one
+else."
+
+Jean Jacques looked M. Fille in the eyes. "Moi--je suis philosophe," he
+said without any of the old insistence and pride and egotism, but as one
+would make an affirmation or repeat a creed.
+
+"Yes, yes, to be sure, always, as of old," answered M. Fille firmly;
+for, from that formula might come strength, when it was most needed,
+in a sense other and deeper far than it had been or was now. "You will
+remember that you will always know where to find us--eh?" added the
+little Clerk of the Court.
+
+The going of Jean Jacques was inevitable; all persuasion had failed to
+induce him to stay--even that of Virginie; and M. Fille now treated
+it as though it was the beginning of a new career for Jean Jacques,
+whatever that career might be. It might be he would come back some day,
+but not to things as they were, not ever again, nor as the same man.
+
+"You will move on with the world outside there," continued M. Fille,
+"but we shall be turning on the same swivel here always; and whenever
+you come--there, you understand. With us it is semper fidelis, always
+the same."
+
+Jean Jacques looked at M. Fille again as though to ask him a question,
+but presently he shook his head in negation to his thought.
+
+"Well, good-bye," he said cheerfully--"A la bonne heure!"
+
+By that M. Fille knew that Jean Jacques did not wish for company as he
+went--not even the company of his old friend who had loved the bright
+whimsical emotional Zoe; who had hovered around his life like a
+protecting spirit.
+
+"A bi'tot," responded M. Fille, declining upon the homely patois.
+
+But as Jean Jacques walked away with his little book of philosophy in
+his pocket, and the bird-cage in his hand, someone sobbed. M. Fille
+turned and saw. It was Virginie Poucette. Fortunately for Virginie other
+women did the same, not for the same reason, but out of a sympathy which
+was part of the scene.
+
+It had been the intention of some friends of Jean Jacques to give him
+a cheer when he left, and even his sullen local creditors, now that
+the worst had come, were disposed to give him a good send-off; but the
+incident of the canary in its cage gave a turn to the feeling of the
+crowd which could not be resisted. They were not a people who could cut
+and dry their sentiments; they were all impulse and simplicity, with an
+obvious cocksure shrewdness too, like that of Jean Jacques--of the old
+Jean Jacques. He had been the epitome of all their faults and all their
+virtues.
+
+No one cheered. Only one person called, "Au 'voir, M'sieu' Jean
+Jacques!" and no one followed him--a curious, assertive, feebly-brisk,
+shock-headed figure in the brown velveteen jacket, which he had bought
+in Paris on his Grand Tour.
+
+"What a ridiculous little man!" said a woman from Chalfonte over the
+water, who had been buying freely all day for her new "Manor," her
+husband being a member of the provincial legislature.
+
+The words were no sooner out of her mouth than two women faced her
+threateningly.
+
+"For two pins I'd slap your face," said old Mere Langlois, her great
+breast heaving. "Popinjay--you, that ought to be in a cage like his
+canary."
+
+But Virginie Poucette also was there in front of the offender, and she
+also had come from Chalfonte--was born in that parish; and she knew what
+she was facing.
+
+"Better carry a bird-cage and a book than carry swill to swine," she
+said; and madame from Chalfonte turned white, for it had been said that
+her father was once a swine-herd, and that she had tried her best to
+forget it when, with her coarse beauty, she married the well-to-do
+farmer who was now in the legislature.
+
+"Hold your tongues, all of you, and look at that," said M. Manotel, who
+had joined the agitated group. He was pointing towards the departing
+Jean Jacques, who was now away upon his road.
+
+Jean Jacques had raised the cage on a level with his face, and was
+evidently speaking to the bird in the way birds love--that soft kissing
+sound to which they reply with song.
+
+Presently there came a chirp or two, and then the bird thrust up
+its head, and out came the full blessedness of its song, exultant,
+home-like, intimate.
+
+Jean Jacques walked on, the bird singing by his side; and he did not
+look back.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI. IF SHE HAD KNOWN IN TIME
+
+Nothing stops when we stop for a time, or for all time, except
+ourselves. Everything else goes on--not in the same way; but it does go
+on. Life did not stop at St. Saviour's after Jean Jacques made his exit.
+Slowly the ruined mill rose up again, and very slowly indeed the widow
+of Palass Poucette recovered her spirits, though she remained a widow
+in spite of all appeals; but M. Fille and his sister never were the same
+after they lost their friend. They had great comfort in the dog
+which Jean Jacques had given to them, and they roused themselves to a
+malicious pleasure when Bobon, as he had been called by Zoe, rushed out
+at the heels of an importunate local creditor who had greatly worried
+Jean Jacques at the last. They waited in vain for a letter from Jean
+Jacques, but none came; nor did they hear anything from him, or of him,
+for a long, long time.
+
+Jean Jacques did not mean that they should. When he went away with his
+book of philosophy and his canary he had but one thing in his mind, and
+that was to find Zoe and make her understand that he knew he had been
+in the wrong. He had illusions about starting life again, in which he
+probably did not believe; but the make-believe was good for him. Long
+before the crash came, in Zoe's name--not his own--he had bought from
+the Government three hundred and twenty acres of land out near the
+Rockies and had spent five hundred dollars in improvements on it.
+
+There it was in the West, one remaining asset still his own--or rather
+Zoe's--but worth little if he or she did not develop it. As he left St.
+Saviour's, however, he kept fixing his mind on that "last domain," as he
+called it to himself. If this was done intentionally, that he might be
+saved from distraction and despair, it was well done; if it was a real
+illusion--the old self-deception which had been his bane so often in the
+past--it still could only do him good at the present. It prevented him
+from noticing the attention he attracted on the railway journey from St.
+Saviour's to Montreal, cherishing his canary and his book as he went.
+
+He was not so self-conscious now as in the days when he was surprised
+that Paris did not stop to say, "Bless us, here is that fine fellow,
+Jean Jacques Barbille of St. Saviour's!" He could concentrate himself
+more now on things that did not concern the impression he was making on
+the world. At present he could only think of Zoe and of her future.
+
+When a patronizing and aggressive commercial traveller in the little
+hotel on a side-street where he had taken a room in Montreal said to
+him, "Bien, mon vieux" (which is to say, "Well, old cock"), "aren't
+you a long way from home?" something of a new dignity came into Jean
+Jacques' bearing, very different from the assurance of the old days, and
+in reply he said:
+
+"Not so far that I need be careless about my company." This made the
+landlady of the little hotel laugh quite hard, for she did not like the
+braggart "drummer" who had treated her with great condescension for a
+number of years. Also Madame Glozel liked Jean Jacques because of his
+canary. She thought there must be some sentimental reason for a man of
+fifty or more carrying a bird about with him; and she did not rest
+until she had drawn from Jean Jacques that he was taking the bird to his
+daughter in the West. There, however, madame was stayed in her search
+for information. Jean Jacques closed up, and did but smile when she
+adroitly set traps for him, and at last asked him outright where his
+daughter was.
+
+Why he waited in Montreal it would be hard to say, save that it was a
+kind of middle place between the old life and the new, and also because
+he must decide what was to be his plan of search. First the West--first
+Winnipeg, but where after that? He had at last secured information of
+where Zoe and Gerard Fynes had stayed while in Montreal; and now he
+followed clues which would bring him in touch with folk who knew them.
+He came to know one or two people who were with Zoe and Gerard in the
+last days they spent in the metropolis, and he turned over and over in
+his mind every word said about his girl, as a child turns a sweetmeat in
+its mouth. This made him eager to be off; but on the very day he decided
+to start at once for the West, something strange happened.
+
+It was towards the late afternoon of a Saturday, when the streets were
+full of people going to and from the shops in a marketing quarter, that
+Madame Glozel came to him and said:
+
+"M'sieu', I have an idea, and you will not think it strange, for you
+have a kind heart. There is a woman--look you, it is a sad, sad story
+hers. She is ill and dying in a room a little way down the street. But
+yes, I am sure she is dying--of heart disease it is. She came here first
+when the illness took her, but she could not afford to stay. She went to
+those cheaper lodgings down the street. She used to be on the stage over
+in the States, and then she came back here, and there was a man--married
+to him or not I do not know, and I will not think. Well, the man--the
+brute--he left her when she got ill--but yes, forsook her absolutely! He
+was a land-agent or something like that, and all very fine to your face,
+to promise and to pretend--just make-believe. When her sickness got
+worse, off he went with 'Au revoir, my dear--I will be back to supper.'
+Supper! If she'd waited for her supper till he came back, she'd have
+waited as long as I've done for the fortune the gipsy promised me forty
+years ago. Away he went, the rogue, without a thought of her, and with
+another woman. That's what hurt her most of all. Straight from her that
+could hardly drag herself about--ah, yes, and has been as handsome a
+woman as ever was!--straight from her he went to a slut. She was a slut,
+m'sieu'--did I not know her? Did Ma'm'selle Slut not wait at table in
+this house and lead the men a dance here night and day-day and night
+till I found it out! Well, off he went with the slut, and left the lady
+behind.... You men, you treat women so."
+
+Jean Jacques put out a hand as though to argue with her. "Sometimes it
+is the other way," he retorted. "Most of us have seen it like that."
+
+"Well, for sure, you're right enough there, m'sieu'," was the response.
+"I've got nothing to say to that, except that it's a man that runs away
+with a woman, or that gets her to leave her husband when she does go.
+There's always a man that says, 'Come along, I'm the better chap for
+you.'"
+
+Jean Jacques wearily turned his head away towards the cage where his
+canary was beginning to pipe its evening lay.
+
+"It all comes to the same thing in the end," he said pensively; and then
+he who had been so quiet since he came to the little hotel--Glozel's, it
+was called--began to move about the room excitedly, running his fingers
+through his still bushy hair, which, to his credit, was always as clean
+as could be, burnished and shiny even at his mid-century period. He
+began murmuring to himself, and a frown settled on his fore head. Mme.
+Glozel saw that she had perturbed him, and that no doubt she had roused
+some memories which made sombre the sunny little room where the canary
+sang; where, to ravish the eyes of the pessimist, was a picture of Louis
+XVI. going to heaven in the arms of St. Peter.
+
+When started, however, the good woman could no more "slow down" than her
+French pony would stop when its head was turned homewards from market.
+So she kept on with the history of the woman down the street.
+
+"Heart disease," she said, nodding with assurance and finality; "and we
+know what that is--a start, a shock, a fall, a strain, and pht! off the
+poor thing goes. Yes, heart disease, and sometimes with such awful pain.
+But so; and yesterday she told me she had only a hundred dollars left.
+'Enough to last me through,' she said to me. Poor thing, she lifted up
+her eyes with a way she has, as if looking for something she couldn't
+find, and she says, as simple as though she was asking about the price
+of a bed-tick, 'It won't cost more than fifty dollars to bury me, I
+s'pose?' Well, that made me squeamish, for the poor dear's plight came
+home to me so clear, and she young enough yet to get plenty out of life,
+if she had the chance. So I asked her again about her people--whether I
+couldn't send for someone belonging to her. 'There's none that belongs
+to me,' she says, 'and there's no one I belong to.'
+
+"I thought very likely she didn't want to tell me about herself; perhaps
+because she had done wrong, and her family had not been good to her.
+Yet it was right I should try and get her folks to come, if she had any
+folks. So I said to her, 'Where was your home?' And now, what do you
+think she answered, m'sieu'?' 'Look there,' she said to me, with her
+big eyes standing out of her head almost--for that's what comes to her
+sometimes when she is in pain, and she looks more handsome then than at
+any other time--'Look there,' she said to me, 'it was in heaven, that's
+where--my home was; but I didn't know it. I hadn't been taught to know
+the place when I saw it.'
+
+"Well, I felt my skin go goosey, for I saw what was going on in her
+mind, and how she was remembering what had happened to her some time,
+somewhere; but there wasn't a tear in her eyes, and I never saw her
+cry-never once, m'sieu'--well, but as brave as brave. Her eyes are
+always dry--burning. They're like two furnaces scorching up her face. So
+I never found out her history, and she won't have the priest. I believe
+that's because she wants to die unknown, and doesn't want to confess. I
+never saw a woman I was sorrier for, though I think she wasn't married
+to the man that left her. But whatever she was, there's good in her--I
+haven't known hundreds of women and had seven sisters for nothing. Well,
+there she is--not a friend near her at the last; for it's coming soon,
+the end--no one to speak to her, except the woman she pays to come in
+and look after her and nurse her a bit. Of course there's the landlady
+too, Madame Popincourt, a kind enough little cricket of a woman, but
+with no sense and no head for business. And so the poor sick thing has
+not a single pleasure in the world. She can't read, because it makes her
+head ache, she says; and she never writes to any one. One day she tried
+to sing a little, but it seemed to hurt her, and she stopped before she
+had begun almost. Yes, m'sieu', there she is without a single pleasure
+in the long hours when she doesn't sleep."
+
+"There's my canary--that would cheer her up," eagerly said Jean Jacques,
+who, as the story of the chirruping landlady continued, became master of
+his agitation, and listened as though to the tale of some life for which
+he had concern. "Yes, take my canary to her, madame. It picked me up
+when I was down. It'll help her--such a bird it is! It's the best singer
+in the world. It's got in its throat the music of Malibran and Jenny
+Lind and Grisi, and all the stars in heaven that sang together. Also,
+to be sure, it doesn't charge anything, but just as long as there's
+daylight it sings and sings, as you know."
+
+"M'sieu'--oh, m'sieu', it was what I wanted to ask you, and I didn't
+dare!" gushingly declared madame. "I never heard a bird sing like
+that--just as if it knew how much good it was doing, and with all the
+airs of a grand seigneur. It's a prince of birds, that. If you mean it,
+m'sieu', you'll do as good a thing as you have ever done."
+
+"It would have to be much better, or it wouldn't be any use," remarked
+Jean Jacques.
+
+The woman made a motion of friendliness with both hands. "I don't
+believe that. You may be queer, but you've got a kind eye. It won't be
+for long she'll need the canary, and it will cheer her. There certainly
+was never a bird so little tied to one note. Now this note, now that,
+and so amusing. At times it's as though he was laughing at you."
+
+"That's because, with me for his master, he has had good reason to
+laugh," remarked Jean Jacques, who had come at last to take a despondent
+view of himself.
+
+"That's bosh," rejoined Mme. Glozel; "I've seen several people odder
+than you."
+
+She went over to the cage eagerly, and was about to take it away.
+"Excuse me," interposed Jean Jacques, "I will carry the cage to the
+house. Then you will go in with the bird, and I'll wait outside and see
+if the little rascal sings."
+
+"This minute?" asked madame.
+
+"For sure, this very minute. Why should the poor lady wait? It's a
+lonely time of day, this, the evening, when the long night's ahead."
+
+A moment later the two were walking along the street to the door of
+Mme. Popincourt's lodgings, and people turned to look at the pair, one
+carrying something covered with a white cloth, evidently a savoury dish
+of some kind--the other with a cage in which a handsome canary hopped
+about, well pleased with the world.
+
+At Mme. Popincourt's door Mme. Glozel took the cage and went upstairs.
+Jean Jacques, left behind, paced backwards and forwards in front of the
+house waiting and looking up, for Mme. Glozel had said that behind the
+front window on the third floor was where the sick woman lived. He had
+not long to wait. The setting sun shining full on the window had roused
+the bird, and he began to pour out a flood of delicious melody which
+flowed on and on, causing the people in the street to stay their steps
+and look up. Jean Jacques' face, as he listened, had something very like
+a smile. There was that in the smile belonging to the old pride, which
+in days gone by had made him say when he looked at his domains at the
+Manor Cartier--his houses, his mills, his store, his buildings and his
+lands--"It is all mine. It all belongs to Jean Jacques Barbille."
+
+Suddenly, however, there came a sharp pause in the singing, and after
+that a cry--a faint, startled cry. Then Mme. Glozel's head was thrust
+out of the window three floors up, and she called to Jean Jacques to
+come quickly. As she bade him come, some strange premonition flashed
+to Jean Jacques, and with thumping heart he hastened up the staircase.
+Outside a bedroom door, Mme. Glozel met him. She was so excited she
+could only whisper.
+
+"Be very quiet," she said. "There is something strange. When the bird
+sang as it did--you heard it--she sat like one in a trance. Then her
+face took on a look glad and frightened too, and she stared hard at the
+cage. 'Bring that cage to me,' she said. I brought it. She looked sharp
+at it, then she gave a cry and fell back. As I took the cage away I saw
+what she had been looking at--a writing at the bottom of the cage. It
+was the name Carmen."
+
+With a stifled cry Jean Jacques pushed her aside and entered the
+room. As he did so, the sick woman in the big armchair, so pale yet
+so splendid in her death-beauty, raised herself up. With eyes that
+Francesca might have turned to the vision of her fate, she looked at the
+opening door, as though to learn if he who came was one she had wished
+to see through long, relentless days.
+
+"Jean Jacques--ah, my beautiful Jean Jacques!" she cried out presently
+in a voice like a wisp of sound, for she had little breath; and then
+with a smile she sank back, too late to hear, but not too late to know,
+what Jean Jacques said to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII. BELLS OF MEMORY
+
+However far Jean Jacques went, however long the day since leaving the
+Manor Cartier, he could not escape the signals from his past. He heard
+more than once the bells of memory ringing at the touch of the invisible
+hand of Destiny which accepts no philosophy save its own. At Montreal,
+for one hallowed instant, he had regained his lost Carmen, but he had
+turned from her grave--the only mourners being himself, Mme. Glozel and
+Mme. Popincourt, together with a barber who had coiffed her wonderful
+hair once a week--with a strange burning at his heart. That iceberg
+which most mourners carry in their breasts was not his, as he walked
+down the mountainside from Carmen's grave. Behind him trotted Mme.
+Glozel and Mme. Popincourt, like little magpies, attendants on
+this eagle of sorrow whose life-love had been laid to rest, her
+heart-troubles over. Passion or ennui would no more vex her.
+
+She had had a soul, had Carmen Dolores, though she had never known it
+till her days closed in on her, and from the dusk she looked out of the
+casements of life to such a glowing as Jean Jacques had seen when his
+burning mill beatified the evening sky. She had known passion and vivid
+life in the days when she went hand-in-hand with Carvillho Gonzales
+through the gardens of Granada; she had known the smothering
+home-sickness which does not alone mean being sick for a distant home,
+but a sickness of the home that is; and she had known what George Masson
+gave her for one thrilling hour, and then--then the man who left her in
+her death-year, taking not only the last thread of hope which held her
+to life. This vulture had taken also little things dear to her daily
+life, such as the ring Carvillho Gonzales had given her long ago in
+Cadiz, also another ring, a gift of Jean Jacques, and things less
+valuable to her, such as money, for which she knew surely she would have
+no long use.
+
+As she lay waiting for the day when she must go from the garish scene,
+she unconsciously took stock of life in her own way. There intruded on
+her sight the stages of the theatres where she had played and danced,
+and she heard again the music of the paloma and those other Spanish airs
+which had made the world dance under her girl's feet long ago. At
+first she kept seeing the faces of thousands looking up at her from the
+stalls, down at her from the gallery, over at her from the boxes; and
+the hot breath of that excitement smote her face with a drunken odour
+that sent her mad. Then, alas! somehow, as disease took hold of her,
+there were the colder lights, the colder breath from the few who
+applauded so little. And always the man who had left her in her day of
+direst need; who had had the last warm fires of her life, the last brief
+outrush of her soul, eager as it was for a joy which would prove she
+had not lost all when she fled from the Manor Cartier--a joy which would
+make her forget!
+
+What she really did feel in this last adventure of passion only made her
+remember the more when she was alone now, her life at the Manor
+Cartier. She was wont to wake up suddenly in the morning--the very early
+morning--with the imagined sound of the gold Cock of Beaugard crowing in
+her ears. Memory, memory, memory--yet never a word, and never a hearsay
+of what had happened at the Manor Cartier since she had left it! Then
+there came a time when she longed intensely to see Jean Jacques before
+she died, though she could not bring herself to send word to him. She
+dreaded what the answer might be--not Jean Jacques' answer, but the
+answer of Life. Jean Jacques and her child, her Zoe--more his than hers
+in years gone by--one or both might be dead! She dared not write, but
+she cherished a desire long denied. Then one day she saw everything in
+her life more clearly than she had ever done. She found an old book of
+French verse, once belonging to Mme. Popincourt's husband, who had been
+a professor. Some lines therein opened up a chamber of her being never
+before unlocked. At first only the feeling of the thing came, then
+slowly the spiritual meaning possessed her. She learnt it by heart and
+let it sing to her as she lay half-sleeping and half-waking, half-living
+and half-dying:
+
+     "There is a World; men compass it through tears,
+     Dare doom for joy of it; it called me o'er the foam;
+     I found it down the track of sundering years,
+     Beyond the long island where the sea steals home.
+
+     "A land that triumphs over shame and pain,
+     Penitence and passion and the parting breath,
+     Over the former and the latter rain,
+     The birth-morn fire and the frost of death.
+
+     "From its safe shores the white boats ride away,
+     Salving the wreckage of the portless ships
+     The light desires of the amorous day,
+     The wayward, wanton wastage of the lips.
+
+     "Star-mist and music and the pensive moon
+     These when I harboured at that perfumed shore;
+     And then, how soon! the radiance of noon,
+     And faces of dear children at the door.
+
+     "Land of the Greater Love--men call it this;
+     No light-o'-love sets here an ambuscade;
+     No tender torture of the secret kiss
+     Makes sick the spirit and the soul afraid.
+
+     "Bright bowers and the anthems of the free,
+     The lovers absolute--ah, hear the call!
+     Beyond the long island and the sheltering sea,
+     That World I found which holds my world in thrall.
+
+     "There is a World; men compass it through tears,
+     Dare doom for joy of it; it called me o'er the foam;
+     I found it down the track of sundering years,
+     Beyond the long island where the sea steals home."
+
+At last the inner thought of it got into her heart, and then it was in
+reply to Mme. Glozel, who asked her where her home was, she said: "In
+Heaven, but I did not know it!" And thus it was, too, that at the
+very last, when Jean Jacques followed the singing bird into her
+death-chamber, she cried out, "Ah, my beautiful Jean Jacques!"
+
+And because Jean Jacques knew that, at the last, she had been his, soul
+and body, he went down from the mountain-side, the two black magpies
+fluttering mournfully and yet hopefully behind him, with more warmth at
+his heart than he had known for years. It never occurred to him that the
+two elderly magpies would jointly or severally have given the rest of
+their lives and their scant fortunes to have him with them either as
+husband, or as one who honourably hires a home at so much a day.
+
+Though Jean Jacques did not know this last fact, when he fared forth
+again he left behind his canary with Mme. Glozel; also all Carmen's
+clothes, except the dress she died in, he gave to Mme. Popincourt, on
+condition that she did not wear them till he had gone. The dress in
+which Carmen died he wrapped up carefully, with her few jewels and her
+wedding-ring, and gave the parcel to Mme. Glozel to care for till he
+should send for it or come again.
+
+"The bird--take him on my birthday to sing at her grave," he said to
+Mme. Glozel just before he went West. "It is in summer, my birthday, and
+you shall hear how he will sing there," he added in a low voice at the
+very door. Then he took out a ten-dollar bill, and would have given it
+to her to do this thing for him; but she would have none of his money.
+She only wiped her eyes and deplored his going, and said that if ever
+he wanted a home, and she was alive, he would know where to find it.
+It sounded and looked sentimental, yet Jean Jacques was never less
+sentimental in a very sentimental life. This particular morning he was
+very quiet and grave, and not in the least agitated; he spoke like one
+from a friendly, sun-bright distance to Mme. Glozel, and also to Mme.
+Popincourt as he passed her at the door of her house.
+
+Jean Jacques had no elation as he took the Western trail; there was not
+much hope in his voice; but there was purpose and there was a little
+stream of peace flowing through his being--and also, mark, a stream of
+anger tumbling over rough places. He had read two letters addressed to
+Carmen by the man--Hugo Stolphe--who had left her to her fate; and there
+was a grim devouring thing in him which would break loose, if ever the
+man crossed his path. He would not go hunting him, but if he passed
+him or met him on the way--! Still he would go hunting--to find his
+Carmencita, his little Carmen, his Zoe whom he had unwittingly, God
+knew! driven forth into the far world of the millions of acres--a wide,
+wide hunting-ground in good sooth.
+
+So he left his beloved province where he no longer had a home, and
+though no letters came to him from St. Saviour's, from Vilray or the
+Manor Cartier, yet he heard the bells of memory when the Hand Invisible
+arrested his footsteps. One day these bells rang so loud that he would
+have heard them were he sunk in the world's deepest well of shame; but,
+as it was, he now marched on hills far higher than the passes through
+the mountains which his patchwork philosophy had ever provided.
+
+It was in the town of Shilah on the Watloon River that the bells boomed
+out--not because he had encountered one he had ever known far down by
+the Beau Cheval, or in his glorious province, not because he had
+found his Zoe, but because a man, the man--not George Masson, but the
+other--met him in the way.
+
+Shilah was a place to which, almost unconsciously, he had deviated his
+course, because once Virginie Poucette had read him a letter from there.
+That was in the office of the little Clerk of the Court at Vilray. The
+letter was from Virginie's sister at Shilah, and told him that Zoe and
+her husband had gone away into farther fields of homelessness. Thus it
+was that Shilah ever seemed to him, as he worked West, a goal in his
+quest--not the last goal perhaps, but a goal.
+
+He had been far past it by another route, up, up and out into the more
+scattered settlements, and now at last he had come to it again, having
+completed a kind of circle. As he entered it, the past crowded on to him
+with a hundred pictures. Shilah--it was where Virginie Poucette's sister
+lived; and Virginie had been a part of the great revelation of his life
+at St. Saviour's.
+
+As he was walking by the riverside at Shilah, a woman spoke to him,
+touching his arm as she did so. He was in a deep dream as she spoke,
+but there certainly was a look in her face that reminded him of someone
+belonging to the old life. For an instant he could not remember. For a
+moment he did not even realize that he was at Shilah. His meditation
+had almost been a trance, and it took him time to adjust himself to
+the knowledge of the conscious mind. His subconsciousness was very
+powerfully alive in these days. There was not the same ceaselessly
+active eye, nor the vibration of the impatient body which belonged to
+the money-master and miller of the Manor Cartier. Yet the eye had more
+depth and force, and the body was more powerful and vigorous than it had
+ever been. The long tramping, the everlasting trail on false scents, the
+mental battling with troubles past and present, had given a fortitude
+and vigour to the body beyond what it had ever known. In spite of
+his homelessness and pilgrim equipment he looked as though he had a
+home--far off. The eyes did not smile; but the lips showed the goodness
+of his heart--and its hardness too. Hardness had never been there in
+the old days. It was, however, the hardness of resentment, and not
+of cruelty. It was not his wife's or his daughter's flight that he
+resented, nor yet the loss of all he had, nor the injury done him by
+Sebastian Dolores. No, his resentment was against one he had never seen,
+but was now soon to see. As his mind came back from the far places where
+it had been, and his eyes returned to the concrete world, he saw what
+the woman recalled to him. It was--yes, it was Virginie Poucette--the
+kind and beautiful Virginie--for her goodness had made him remember
+her as beautiful, though indeed she was but comely, like this woman who
+stayed him as he walked by the river.
+
+"You are M'sieu' Jean Jacques Barbille?" she said questioningly.
+
+"How did you know?" he asked.... "Is Virginie Poucette here?"
+
+"Ah, you knew me from her?" she asked.
+
+"There was something about her--and you have it also--and the look in
+the eyes, and then the lips!" he replied.
+
+Certainly they were quite wonderful, luxurious lips, and so shapely
+too--like those of Virginie.
+
+"But how did you know I was Jean Jacques Barbille?" he repeated.
+
+"Well, then it is quite easy," she replied with a laugh almost like a
+giggle, for she was quite as simple and primitive as her sister. "There
+is a photographer at Vilray, and Virginie got one of your pictures
+there, and sent, it to me. 'He may come your way,' said Virginie to me,
+'and if he does, do not forget that he is my friend.'"
+
+"That she is my friend," corrected Jean Jacques. "And what a
+friend--merci, what a friend!" Suddenly he caught the woman's arm. "You
+once wrote to your sister about my Zoe, my daughter, that married and
+ran away--"
+
+"That ran away and got married," she interrupted.
+
+"Is there any more news--tell me, do you know-?"
+
+But Virginie's sister shook her head. "Only once since I wrote Virginie
+have I heard, and then the two poor children--but how helpless they
+were, clinging to each other so! Well, then, once I heard from Faragay,
+but that was much more than a year ago. Nothing since, and they were
+going on--on to Fort Providence to spend the winter--for his health--his
+lungs."
+
+"What to do--on what to live?" moaned Jean Jacques.
+
+"His grandmother sent him a thousand dollars, so your Madame Zoe wrote
+me."
+
+Jean Jacques raised a hand with a gesture of emotion. "Ah, the blessed
+woman! May there be no purgatory for her, but Heaven at once and
+always!"
+
+"Come home with me--where are your things?" she asked.
+
+"I have only a knapsack," he replied. "It is not far from here. But I
+cannot stay with you. I have no claim. No, I will not, for--"
+
+"As to that, we keep a tavern," she returned. "You can come the same
+as the rest of the world. The company is mixed, but there it is. You
+needn't eat off the same plate, as they say in Quebec."
+
+Quebec! He looked at her with the face of one who saw a vision. How like
+Virginie Poucette--the brave, generous Virginie--how like she was!
+
+In silence now he went with her, and seeing his mood she did not talk to
+him. People stared as they walked along, for his dress was curious and
+his head was bare, and his hair like the coat of a young lion. Besides,
+this woman was, in her way, as brave and as generous as Virginie
+Poucette. In the very doorway of the tavern by the river a man jostled
+them. He did not apologize. He only leered. It made his foreign-looking,
+coarsely handsome face detestable.
+
+"Pig!" exclaimed Virginie Poucette's sister. "That's a man--well, look
+out! There's trouble brewing for him. If he only knew! If suspicion
+comes out right and it's proved--well, there, he'll jostle the door-jamb
+of a jail."
+
+Jean Jacques stared after the man, and somehow every nerve in his
+body became angry. He had all at once a sense of hatred. He shook the
+shoulder against which the man had collided. He remembered the leer on
+the insolent, handsome face.
+
+"I'd like to see him thrown into the river," said Virginie Poucette's
+sister. "We have a nice girl here--come from Ireland--as good as can be.
+Well, last night--but there, she oughtn't to have let him speak to her.
+'A kiss is nothing,' he said. Well, if he kissed me I would kill him--if
+I didn't vomit myself to death first. He's a mongrel--a South American
+mongrel with nigger blood."
+
+Jean Jacques kept looking after the man. "Why don't you turn him out?"
+he asked sharply.
+
+"He's going away to-morrow anyhow," she replied. "Besides, the girl,
+she's so ashamed--and she doesn't want anyone to know. 'Who'd want to
+kiss me after him' she said, and so he stays till to-morrow. He's not in
+the tavern itself, but in the little annex next door-there, where he's
+going now. He's only had his meals here, though the annex belongs to us
+as well. He's alone there on his dung-hill."
+
+She brought Jean Jacques into a room that overlooked the river--which,
+indeed, hung on its very brink. From the steps at its river-door, a
+little ferry-boat took people to the other side of the Watloon, and very
+near--just a few hand-breadths away--was the annex where was the man who
+had jostled Jean Jacques.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII. JEAN JACQUES HAS WORK TO DO
+
+A single lighted lamp, turned low, was suspended from the ceiling of the
+raftered room, and through the open doorway which gave on to a little
+wooden piazza with a slight railing and small, shaky gate came the swish
+of the Watloon River. No moon was visible, but the stars were radiant
+and alive--trembling with life. There was something soothing, something
+endlessly soothing in the sound of the river. It suggested the ceaseless
+movement of life to the final fulness thereof.
+
+So still was the room that it might have seemed to be without life, were
+it not for a faint sound of breathing. The bed, however, was empty,
+and no chair was occupied; but on a settle in a corner beside an unused
+fireplace sat a man, now with hands clasped between his knees, again
+with arms folded across his breast; but with his head always in a
+listening attitude. The whole figure suggested suspense, vigilance and
+preparedness. The man had taken off his boots and stockings, and his
+bare feet seemed to grip the floor; also the sleeves of his jacket were
+rolled up a little. It was not a figure you would wish to see in
+your room at midnight unasked. Once or twice he sighed heavily, as he
+listened to the river slishing past and looked out to the sparkle of the
+skies. It was as though the infinite had drawn near to the man, or else
+that the man had drawn near to the infinite. Now and again he brought
+his fists down on his knees with a savage, though noiseless, force. The
+peace of the river and the night could not contend successfully against
+a dark spirit working in him. When, during his vigil, he shook his
+shaggy head and his lips opened on his set teeth, he seemed like one who
+would take toll at a gateway of forbidden things.
+
+He started to his feet at last, hearing footsteps outside upon the
+stairs. Then he settled back again, drawing near to the chimney-wall,
+so that he should not be easily seen by anyone entering. Presently there
+was the click of a latch, then the door opened and shut, and cigar-smoke
+invaded the room. An instant later a hand went up to the suspended
+oil-lamp and twisted the wick into brighter flame. As it did so, there
+was a slight noise, then the click of a lock. Turning sharply, the
+man under the lamp saw at the door the man who had been sitting in
+the corner. The man had a key in his hand. Exit now could only be had
+through the door opening on to the river.
+
+"Who are you? What the hell do you want here?" asked the fellow under
+the lamp, his swarthy face drawn with fear and yet frowning with anger.
+
+"Me--I am Jean Jacques Barbille," said the other in French, putting
+the key of the door in his pocket. The other replied in French, with
+a Spanish-English accent. "Barbille--Carmen's husband! Well, who would
+have thought--!"
+
+He ended with a laugh not pleasant to hear, for it was coarse with
+sardonic mirth; yet it had also an unreasonable apprehension; for why
+should he fear the husband of the woman who had done that husband such
+an injury!
+
+"She treated you pretty bad, didn't she--not much heart, had Carmen!" he
+added.
+
+"Sit down. I want to talk to you," said Jean Jacques, motioning to two
+chairs by a table at the side of the room. This table was in the middle
+of the room when the man under the lamp-Hugo Stolphe was his name--had
+left it last. Why had the table been moved?
+
+"Why should I sit down, and what are you doing here?--I want to know
+that," Stolphe demanded. Jean Jacques' hands were opening and shutting.
+"Because I want to talk to you. If you don't sit down, I'll give you no
+chance at all.... Sit down!" Jean Jacques was smaller than Stolphe,
+but he was all whipcord and leather; the other was sleek and soft, but
+powerful too; and he had one of those savage natures which go blind with
+hatred, and which fight like beasts. He glanced swiftly round the room.
+
+"There is no weapon here," said Jean Jacques, nodding. "I have put
+everything away--so you could not hurt me if you wanted.... Sit down!"
+
+To gain time Stolphe sat down, for he had a fear that Jean Jacques was
+armed, and might be a madman armed--there were his feet bare on the
+brown painted boards. They looked so strange, so uncanny. He surely must
+be a madman if he wanted to do harm to Hugo Stolphe; for Hugo Stolphe
+had only "kept" the woman who had left her husband, not because of
+himself, but because of another man altogether--one George Masson. Had
+not Carmen herself told him that before she and he lived together? What
+grudge could Carmen's husband have against Hugo Stolphe?
+
+Jean Jacques sat down also, and, leaning on the table said: "Once I was
+a fool and let the other man escape-George Masson it was. Because of
+what he did, my wife left me."
+
+His voice became husky, but he shook his throat, as it were, cleared it,
+and went on. "I won't let you go. I was going to kill George Masson--I
+had him like that!" He opened and shut his hand with a gesture of
+fierce possession. "But I did not kill him. I let him go. He was so
+clever--cleverer than you will know how to be. She said to me--my wife
+said to me, when she thought I had killed him, 'Why did you not
+fight him? Any man would have fought him.' That was her view. She was
+right--not to kill without fighting. That is why I did not kill you at
+once when I knew."
+
+"When you knew what?" Stolphe was staring at the madman.
+
+"When I knew you were you. First I saw that ring--that ring on your
+hand. It was my wife's. I gave it to her the first New Year after we
+married. I saw it on your hand when you were drinking at the bar next
+door. Then I asked them your name. I knew it. I had read your letters to
+my wife--"
+
+"Your wife once on a time!"
+
+Jean Jacques' eyes swam red. "My wife always and always--and at the last
+there in my arms." Stolphe temporized. "I never knew you. She did not
+leave you because of me. She came to me because--because I was there
+for her to come to, and you weren't there. Why do you want to do me any
+harm?" He still must be careful, for undoubtedly the man was mad--his
+eyes were too bright.
+
+"You were the death of her," answered Jean Jacques, leaning forward.
+"She was most ill-ah, who would not have been sorry for her! She was
+poor. She had been to you--but to live with a woman day by day, but to
+be by her side when the days are done, and then one morning to say, 'Au
+revoir till supper' and then go and never come back, and to take money
+and rings that belonged to her!... That was her death--that was the end
+of Carmen Barbille; and it was your fault."
+
+"You would do me harm and not hurt her! Look how she treated you--and
+others."
+
+Jean Jacques half rose from his seat in sudden rage, but he restrained
+himself, and sat down again. "She had one husband--only one. It was Jean
+Jacques Barbille. She could only treat one as she treated me--me, her
+husband. But you, what had you to do with that! You used her--so!"
+He made a motion as though to stamp out an insect with his foot.
+"Beautiful, a genius, sick and alone--no husband, no child, and you used
+her so! That is why I shall kill you to-night. We will fight for it."
+
+Yes, but surely the man was mad, and the thing to do was to humour
+him, to gain time. To humour a madman--that is what one always advised,
+therefore Stolphe would make the pourparler, as the French say.
+
+"Well, that's all right," he rejoined, "but how is it going to be done?
+Have you got a pistol?" He thought he was very clever, and that he would
+now see whether Jean Jacques Barbille was armed. If he was not armed,
+well, then, there would be the chances in his favour; it wasn't easy to
+kill with hands alone.
+
+Jean Jacques ignored the question, however. He waved a hand impatiently,
+as though to dismiss it. "She was beautiful and splendid; she had been
+a queen down there in Quebec. You lied to her, and she was blind at
+first--I can see it all. She believed so easily--but yes, always! There
+she was what she was, and you were what you are, not a Frenchman, not
+Catholic, and an American--no, not an American--a South American. But
+no, not quite a South American, for there was the Portuguese nigger in
+you--Sit down!"
+
+Jean Jacques was on his feet bending over the enraged mongrel. He had
+spoken the truth, and Carmen's last lover had been stung as though a
+serpent's tooth was in his flesh. Of all things that could be said about
+him, that which Jean Jacques said was the worst--that he was not all
+white, that he had nigger blood! Yet it was true; and he realized that
+Jean Jacques must have got his information in Shilah itself where he
+had been charged with it. Yet, raging as he was, and ready to take the
+Johnny Crapaud--that is the name by which he had always called Carmen's
+husband--by the throat, he was not yet sure that Jean Jacques was
+unarmed. He sat still under an anger greater than his own, for there was
+in it that fanaticism which only the love or hate of a woman could breed
+in a man's mind.
+
+Suddenly Stolphe laughed outright, a crackling, mirthless, ironical
+laugh; for it really was absurdity made sublime that this man, who
+had been abandoned by his wife, should now want to kill one who had
+abandoned her! This outdid Don Quixote over and over.
+
+"Well, what do you want?" he asked.
+
+"I want you to fight," said Jean Jacques. "That is the way. That was
+Carmen's view. You shall have your chance to live, but I shall throw you
+in the river, and you can then fight the river. The current is swift,
+the banks are steep and high as a house down below there. Now, I am
+ready...!"
+
+He had need to be, for Stolphe was quick, kicking the chair from beneath
+him, and throwing himself heavily on Jean Jacques. He had had his day at
+that in South America, and as Jean Jacques Barbille had said, the water
+was swift and deep, and the banks of the Watloon high and steep!
+
+But Jean Jacques was unconscious of everything save a debt to be
+collected for a woman he had loved, a compensation which must be taken
+in flesh and blood. Perhaps at the moment, as Stolphe had said to
+himself, he was a little mad, for all his past, all his plundered,
+squandered, spoiled life was crying out at him like a hundred ghosts,
+and he was fighting with beasts at Ephesus. An exaltation possessed
+him. Not since the day when his hand was on the lever of the flume with
+George Masson below; not since the day he had turned his back for ever
+on the Manor Cartier had he been so young and so much his old self-an
+egotist, with all the blind confidence of his kind; a dreamer inflamed
+into action with all a mad dreamer's wild power. He was not fifty-two
+years of age, but thirty-two at this moment, and all the knowledge got
+of the wrestling river-drivers of his boyhood, when he had spent hours
+by the river struggling with river-champions, came back to him. It was
+a relief to his sick soul to wrench and strain, and propel and twist
+and force onward, step by step, to the door opening on the river, this
+creature who had left his Carmen to die alone.
+
+"No, you don't--not yet. The jail before the river!" called a cool,
+sharp, sour voice; and on the edge of the trembling platform overhanging
+the river, Hugo Stolphe was dragged back from the plunge downward he was
+about to take, with Jean Jacques' hand at his throat.
+
+Stolphe had heard the door of the bedroom forced, but Jean Jacques had
+not heard it; he was only conscious of hands dragging him back just at
+the moment of Stolphe's deadly peril.
+
+"What is it?" asked Jean Jacques, seeing Stolphe in the hands of two
+men, and hearing the snap of steel. "Wanted for firing a house for
+insurance--wanted for falsifying the accounts of a Land Company--wanted
+for his own good, Mr. Hugo Stolphe, C.O.D.--collect on delivery!" said
+the officer of the law. "And collected just in time!"
+
+"We didn't mean to take him till to-morrow," the officer added, "but out
+on the river one of us saw this gladiator business here in the red-light
+zone, and there wasn't any time to lose.... I don't know what your
+business with him was," the long-moustached detective said to Jean
+Jacques, "but whatever the grudge is, if you don't want to appear in
+court in the morning, the walking's good out of town night or day--so
+long!"
+
+He hustled his prisoner out.
+
+Jean Jacques did not want to appear in court, and as the walking was
+officially good at dawn, he said good-bye to Virginie Poucette's sister
+through the crack of a door, and was gone before she could restrain him.
+
+"Well, things happen that way," he said, as he turned back to look at
+Shilah before it disappeared from view.
+
+"Ah, the poor, handsome vaurien!" the woman at the tavern kept saying to
+her husband all that day; and she could not rest till she had written to
+Virginie how Jean Jacques came to Shilah in the evening, and went with
+the dawn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV. JEAN JACQUES ENCAMPED
+
+The Young Doctor of Askatoon had a good heart, and he was exercising it
+honourably one winter's day near three years after Jean Jacques had left
+St. Saviour's.
+
+"There are many French Canadians working on the railway now, and a
+good many habitant farmers live hereabouts, and they have plenty of
+children--why not stay here and teach school? You are a Catholic, of
+course, monsieur?"
+
+This is what the Young Doctor said to one who had been under his anxious
+care for a few, vivid days. The little brown-bearded man with the
+grey-brown hair nodded in reply, but his gaze was on the billowing waste
+of snow, which stretched as far as eye could see to the pine-hills in
+the far distance. He nodded assent, but it was plain to be seen that the
+Young Doctor's suggestion was not in tune with his thought. His nod only
+acknowledged the reasonableness of the proposal. In his eyes, however,
+was the wanderlust which had possessed him for three long years, in
+which he had been searching for what to him was more than Eldorado, for
+it was hope and home. Hope was all he had left of the assets which had
+made him so great a figure--as he once thought--in his native parish of
+St. Saviour's. It was his fixed idea--une idee fixe, as he himself said.
+Lands, mills, manor, lime-kilns, factories, store, all were gone,
+and his wife Carmen also was gone. He had buried her with simple
+magnificence in Montreal--Mme. Glozel had said to her neighbours
+afterwards that the funeral cost over seventy-five dollars--and had set
+up a stone to her memory on which was carved, "Chez nous autrefois, et
+chez Dieu maintenant"--which was to say, "Our home once, and God's Home
+now."
+
+That done, with a sorrow which still had the peace of finality in his
+mind, he had turned his face to the West. His long, long sojourning had
+brought him to Shilah where a new chapter of his life was closed, and
+at last to Askatoon, where another chapter still closed an epoch in
+his life, and gave finality to all. There he had been taken down with
+congestion of the lungs, and, fainting at the door of a drug-store, had
+been taken possession of by the Young Doctor, who would not send him to
+the hospital. He would not send him there because he found inside the
+waistcoat of this cleanest tramp--if he was a tramp--that he had ever
+seen, a book of philosophy, the daguerreotype photo of a beautiful
+foreign-looking woman, and some verses in a child's handwriting. The
+book of philosophy was underlined and interlined on every page, and
+every margin had comment which showed a mind of the most singular
+simplicity, searching wisdom, and hopeless confusion, all in one.
+
+The Young Doctor was a man of decision, and he had whisked the little
+brown-grey sufferer to his own home, and tended him there like a brother
+till the danger disappeared; and behold he was rewarded for his
+humanity by as quaint an experience as he had ever known. He had not
+succeeded--though he tried hard--in getting at the history of his
+patient's life; but he did succeed in reading the fascinating story of a
+mind; for Jean Jacques, if not so voluble as of yore, had still moments
+when he seemed to hypnotize himself, and his thoughts were alive in an
+atmosphere of intellectual passion ill in accord with his condition.
+
+Presently the little brown man withdrew his eyes from the window of the
+Young Doctor's office and the snowy waste beyond. They had a curious red
+underglow which had first come to them an evening long ago, when they
+caught from the sky the reflection of a burning mill. There was distance
+and the far thing in that underglow of his eyes. It had to do with the
+horizon, not with the place where his feet were. It said, "Out there,
+beyond, is what I go to seek, what I must find, what will be home to
+me."
+
+"Well, I must be getting on," he said in a low voice to the Young
+Doctor, ignoring the question which had been asked.
+
+"If you want work, there's work to be had here, as I said," responded
+the Young Doctor. "You are a man of education--"
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Jean Jacques.
+
+"I hear you speak," answered the other, and then Jean Jacques drew
+himself up and threw back his head. He had ever loved appreciation, not
+to say flattery, and he had had very little of it lately.
+
+"I was at Laval," he remarked with a flash of pride. "No degree, but a
+year there, and travel abroad--the Grand Tour, and in good style, with
+plenty to do it with. Oh, certainly, no thought for sous, hardly for
+francs! It was gold louis abroad and silver dollars at home--that was
+the standard."
+
+"The dollars are much scarcer now, eh?" asked the Young Doctor
+quizzically.
+
+"I should think I had just enough to pay you," said the other, bridling
+up suddenly; for it seemed to him the Young Doctor had become ironical
+and mocking; and though he had been mocked much in his day, there were
+times when it was not easy to endure it.
+
+The truth is the Young Doctor was somewhat of an expert in human nature,
+and he deeply wanted to know the history of this wandering habitant,
+because he had a great compassionate liking for him. If he could get the
+little man excited, he might be able to find out what he wanted. During
+the days in which the wanderer had been in his house, he had been far
+from silent, for he joked at his own suffering and kept the housekeeper
+laughing at his whimsical remarks; while he won her heart by the
+extraordinary cleanliness of his threadbare clothes, and the perfect
+order of his scantily-furnished knapsack. It had the exactness of one
+who was set upon a far course and would carry it out on scientific
+calculation. He had been full of mocking quips and sallies at himself,
+but from first to last he never talked. The things he said were nothing
+more than surface sounds, as it were--the ejaculations of a mind, not
+its language or its meanings.
+
+"He's had some strange history, this queer little man," said the
+housekeeper to the Young Doctor; "and I'd like to know what it is. Why,
+we don't even know his name."
+
+"So would I," rejoined the Young Doctor, "and I'll have a good try for
+it."
+
+He had had his try more than once, but it had not succeeded. Perhaps a
+little torture would do it, he thought; and so he had made the rather
+tactless remark about the scarcity of dollars. Also his look was
+incredulous when Jean Jacques protested that he had enough to pay the
+fee.
+
+"When you searched me you forgot to look in the right place," continued
+Jean Jacques; and he drew from the lining of the hat he held in his hand
+a little bundle of ten-dollar bills. "Here--take your pay from them," he
+said, and held out the roll of bills. "I suppose it won't be more than
+four dollars a day; and there's enough, I think. I can't pay you for
+your kindness to me, and I don't want to. I'd like to owe you that; and
+it's a good thing for a man himself to be owed kindness. He remembers
+it when he gets older. It helps him to forgive himself more or less for
+what he's sorry for in life. I've enough in this bunch to pay for board
+and professional attendance, or else the price has gone up since I had a
+doctor before."
+
+He laughed now, and the laugh was half-ironical, half-protesting. It
+seemed to come from the well of a hidden past; and no past that is
+hidden has ever been a happy past.
+
+The Young Doctor took the bills, looked at them as though they were
+curios, and then returned them with the remark that they were of a kind
+and denomination of no use to him. There was a twinkle in his eye as he
+said it. Then he added:
+
+"I agree with you that it's a good thing for a man to lay up a little
+credit of kindness here and there for his old age. Well, anything I did
+for you was meant for kindness and nothing else. You weren't a bit of
+trouble, and it was simply your good constitution and a warm room and a
+few fly-blisters that pulled you through. It wasn't any skill of mine.
+Go and thank my housekeeper if you like. She did it all."
+
+"I did my best to thank her," answered Jean Jacques. "I said she
+reminded me of Virginie Palass Poucette, and I could say nothing better
+than that, except one thing; and I'm not saying that to anybody."
+
+The Young Doctor had a thrill. Here was a very unusual man, with mystery
+and tragedy, and yet something above both, in his eyes.
+
+"Who was Virginie Palass Poucette?" he asked. Jean Jacques threw out a
+hand as though to say, "Attend--here is a great thing," and he began,
+"Virginie Poucette--ah, there...!"
+
+Then he paused, for suddenly there spread out before him that past, now
+so far away, in which he had lived--and died. Strange that when he had
+mentioned Virginie's name to the housekeeper he had no such feeling as
+possessed him now. It had been on the surface, and he had used her name
+without any deep stir of the waters far down in his soul. But the Young
+Doctor was fingering the doors of his inner life--all at once this
+conviction came to him--and the past rushed upon him with all its
+disarray and ignominy, its sorrow, joy, elation and loss. Not since he
+had left the scene of his defeat, not since the farewell to his dead
+Carmen, that sweet summer day when he had put the lovely, ruined being
+away with her words, "Jean Jacques--ah, my beautiful Jean Jacques,"
+ringing in his ears, had he ever told anyone his story. He had had a
+feeling that, as Carmen had been restored to him without his crying out,
+or vexing others with his sad history, so would Zoe also come back to
+him. Patience and silence was his motto.
+
+Yet how was it that here and now there came an overpowering feeling,
+that he must tell this healer of sick bodies the story of an invalid
+soul? This man with the piercing dark-blue eyes before him, who looked
+so resolute, who had the air of one who could say,
+
+"This is the way to go," because he knew and was sure; he was not to be
+denied.
+
+"Who was Virginie Poucette?" repeated the Young Doctor insistently, yet
+ever so gently. "Was she such a prize among women? What did she do?"
+
+A flood of feeling passed over Jean Jacques' face. He looked at his hat
+and his knapsack lying in a chair, with a desire to seize them and fly
+from the inquisitor; then a sense of fatalism came upon him. As though
+he had received an order from within his soul, he said helplessly:
+
+"Well, if it must be, it must."
+
+Then he swept the knapsack and his hat from the chair to the floor, and
+sat down.
+
+"I will begin at the beginning," he said with his eyes fixed on those
+of the Young Doctor, yet looking beyond him to far-off things. "I will
+start from the time when I used to watch the gold Cock of Beaugard
+turning on the mill, when I sat in the doorway of the Manor Cartier
+in my pinafore. I don't know why I tell you, but maybe it was meant
+I should. I obey conviction. While you are able to keep logic and
+conviction hand in hand then everything is all right. I have found that
+out. Logic, philosophy are the props of life, but still you must obey
+the impulse of the soul--oh, absolutely! You must--"
+
+He stopped short. "But it will seem strange to you," he added after a
+moment, in which the Young Doctor gestured to him to proceed, "to hear
+me talk like this--a wayfarer--a vagabond you may think. But in other
+days I was in places--"
+
+The Young Doctor interjected with abrupt friendliness that there was no
+need to say he had been in high places. It would still be apparent, if
+he were in rags.
+
+"Then, there, I will speak freely," rejoined Jean Jacques, and he took
+the cherry-brandy which the other offered him, and drank it off with
+gusto.
+
+"Ah, that--that," he said, "is like the cordials Mere Langlois used to
+sell at Vilray. She and Virginie Poucette had a place together on the
+market--none better than Mere Langlois except Virginie Poucette, and she
+was like a drink of water in the desert.... Well, there, I will begin.
+Now my father was--"
+
+It was lucky there were no calls for the Young Doctor that particular
+early morning, else the course of Jean Jacques' life might have been
+greatly different from what it became. He was able to tell his story
+from the very first to the last. Had it been interrupted or unfinished
+one name might not have been mentioned. When Jean Jacques used it, the
+Young Doctor sat up and leaned forward eagerly, while a light came into
+his face-a light of surprise, of revelation and understanding.
+
+When Jean Jacques came to that portion of his life when manifest
+tragedy began--it began of course on the Antoine, but then it was not
+manifest--when his Carmen left him after the terrible scene with George
+Masson, he paused and said: "I don't know why I tell you this, for it
+is not easy to tell; but you saved my life, and you have a right to know
+what it is you have saved, no matter how hard it is to put it all before
+you."
+
+It was at this point that he mentioned Zoe's name--he had hitherto only
+spoken of her as "my daughter"; and here it was the Young Doctor showed
+startled interest, and repeated the name after Jean Jacques. "Zoe!
+Zoe!--ah!" he said, and became silent again.
+
+Jean Jacques had not noticed the Young Doctor's pregnant interruption,
+he was so busy with his own memories of the past; and he brought the
+tale to the day when he turned his face to the West to look for Zoe.
+Then he paused.
+
+"And then?" the Young Doctor asked. "There is more--there is the search
+for Zoe ever since."
+
+"What is there to say?" continued Jean Jacques. "I have searched till
+now, and have not found."
+
+"How have you lived?" asked the other.
+
+"Keeping books in shops and factories, collecting accounts for
+storekeepers, when they saw they could trust me, working at threshings
+and harvests, teaching school here and there. Once I made fifty dollars
+at a railway camp telling French Canadian tales and singing chansons
+Canadiennes. I have been insurance agent, sold lightning-rods, and been
+foreman of a gang building a mill--but I could not bear that. Every time
+I looked up I could see the Cock of Beaugard where the roof should be.
+And so on, so on, first one thing and then another till now--till I came
+to Askatoon and fell down by the drug-store, and you played the good
+Samaritan. So it goes, and I step on from here again, looking--looking."
+
+"Wait till spring," said the Young Doctor. "What is the good of going on
+now! You can only tramp to the next town, and--"
+
+"And the next," interposed Jean Jacques. "But so it is my orders." He
+put his hand on his heart, and gathered up his hat and knapsack.
+
+"But you haven't searched here at Askatoon."
+
+"Ah?... Ah-well, surely that is so," answered Jean Jacques wistfully. "I
+had forgotten that. Perhaps you can tell me, you who know all. Have you
+any news about my Zoe for me? Do you know--was she ever here? Madame
+Gerard Fynes would be her name. My name is Jean Jacques Barbille."
+
+"Madame Zoe was here, but she has gone," quietly answered the Young
+Doctor.
+
+Jean Jacques dropped the hat and the knapsack. His eyes had a glad, yet
+staring and frightened look, for the Young Doctor's face was not the
+bearer of good tidings.
+
+"Zoe--my Zoe! You are sure?... When was she here?" he added huskily.
+
+"A month ago."
+
+"When did she go?" Jean Jacques' voice was almost a whisper.
+
+"A month ago."
+
+"Where did she go?" asked Jean Jacques, holding himself steady, for he
+had a strange dreadful premonition.
+
+"Out of all care at last," answered the Young Doctor, and took a step
+towards the little man, who staggered, then recovered himself.
+
+"She--my Zoe is dead! How?" questioned Jean Jacques in a ghostly sort of
+voice, but there was a steadiness and control unlike what he had shown
+in other tragic moments.
+
+"It was a blizzard. She was bringing her husband's body in a sleigh to
+the railway here. He had died of consumption. She and the driver of the
+sleigh went down in the blizzard. Her body covered the child and saved
+it. The driver was lost also."
+
+"Her child--Zoe's child?" quavered Jean Jacques. "A little girl--Zoe.
+The name was on her clothes. There were letters. One to her father--to
+you. Your name is Jean Jacques Barbille, is it not? I have that letter
+to you. We buried her and her husband in the graveyard yonder." He
+pointed. "Everybody was there--even when they knew it was to be a
+Catholic funeral."
+
+"Ah! she was buried a Catholic?" Jean Jacques' voice was not quite so
+blurred now.
+
+"Yes. Her husband had become Catholic too. A priest who had met them in
+the Peace River Country was here at the time."
+
+At that, with a moan, Jean Jacques collapsed. He shed no tears, but he
+sat with his hands between his knees, whispering his child's name.
+
+The Young Doctor laid a hand on his shoulder gently, but presently
+went out, shutting the door after him. As he left the room, however, he
+turned and said, "Courage, Monsieur Jean Jacques! Courage!"
+
+When the Young Doctor came back a half-hour later he had in his hand the
+letters found in Zoe's pocket. "Monsieur Jean Jacques," he said gently
+to the bowed figure still sitting as he left him.
+
+Jean Jacques got up slowly and looked at him as though scarce
+understanding where he was.
+
+"The child--the child--where is my Zoe's child? Where is Zoe's Zoe?" he
+asked in agitation. His whole body seemed to palpitate. His eyes were
+all red fire.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV. WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?
+
+The Young Doctor did not answer Jean Jacques at once. As he looked at
+this wayworn fugitive he knew that another, and perhaps the final crisis
+of his life, was come to Jean Jacques Barbille, and the human pity in
+him shrank from the possible end to it all. It was an old-world figure
+this, with the face of a peasant troubadour and the carriage of an
+aboriginal--or an aristocrat. Indeed, the ruin, the lonely wandering
+which had been Jean Jacques' portion, had given him that dignity which
+often comes to those who defy destiny and the blows of angry fate. Once
+there had been in his carriage something jaunty. This was merely life
+and energy and a little vain confidence; now there was the look of
+courage which awaits the worst the world can do. The life which,
+according to the world's logic, should have made Jean Jacques a
+miserable figure, an ill-nourished vagabond, had given him a physical
+grace never before possessed by him. The face, however, showed the
+ravages which loss and sorrow had made. It was lined and shadowed with
+dark reflection, yet the forehead had a strange smoothness and serenity
+little in accord with the rest of the countenance. It was like the
+snow-summit of a mountain below which are the ragged escarpments of
+trees and rocks, making a look of storm and warfare.
+
+"Where is she--the child of my Zoe?" Jean Jacques repeated with an
+almost angry emphasis; as though the Young Doctor were hiding her from
+him.
+
+"She is with the wife of Nolan Doyle, my partner in horse-breeding, not
+very far from here. Norah Doyle was married five years, and she had no
+child. This was a grief to her, even more than to Nolan, who, like her,
+came of a stock that was prolific. It was Nolan who found your daughter
+on the prairie--the driver dead, but she just alive when found. To give
+her ease of mind, Nolan said he would make the child his own. When he
+said that, she smiled and tried to speak, but it was too late, and she
+was gone."
+
+In sudden agony Jean Jacques threw up his hands. "So young and so soon
+to be gone!" he exclaimed. "But a child she was and had scarce tasted
+the world. The mercy of God--what is it!"
+
+"You can't take time as the measure of life," rejoined the Young
+Doctor with a compassionate gesture. "Perhaps she had her share of
+happiness--as much as most of us get, maybe, in a longer course."
+
+"Share! She was worth a hundred years of happiness!" bitterly retorted
+Jean Jacques.
+
+"Perhaps she knew her child would have it?" gently remarked the Young
+Doctor.
+
+"Ah, that--that!... Do you think that possible, m'sieu'? Tell me, do you
+think that was in her mind--to have loved, and been a mother, and given
+her life for the child, and then the bosom of God. Answer that to me,
+m'sieu'?"
+
+There was intense, poignant inquiry in Jean Jacques' face, and a light
+seemed to play over it. The Young Doctor heeded the look and all that
+was in the face. It was his mission to heal, and he knew that to heal
+the mind was often more necessary than to heal the body. Here he would
+try to heal the mind, if only in a little.
+
+"That might well have been in her thought," he answered. "I saw her
+face. It had a wonderful look of peace, and a smile that would reconcile
+anyone she loved to her going. I thought of that when I looked at her. I
+recall it now. It was the smile of understanding."
+
+He had said the only thing which could have comforted Jean Jacques
+at that moment. Perhaps it was meant to be that Zoe's child should
+represent to him all that he had lost--home, fortune, place, Carmen and
+Zoe. Perhaps she would be home again for him and all that home should
+mean--be the promise of a day when home would again include that fled
+from Carmen, and himself, and Carmen's child. Maybe it was sentiment in
+him, maybe it was sentimentality--and maybe it was not.
+
+"Come, m'sieu'," Jean Jacques said impatiently: "let us go to the house
+of that M'sieu' Doyle. But first, mark this: I have in the West here
+some land--three hundred and twenty acres. It may yet be to me a home,
+where I shall begin once more with my Zoe's child--with my Zoe of
+Zoe--the home-life I lost down by the Beau Cheval.... Let us go at
+once."
+
+"Yes, at once," answered the Young Doctor. Yet his feet were laggard,
+for he was not so sure that there would be another home for Jean Jacques
+with his grandchild as its star. He was thinking of Norah, to whom a
+waif of the prairie had made home what home should be for herself and
+Nolan Doyle.
+
+"Read these letters first," he said, and he put the letters found on Zoe
+in Jean Jacques' eager hands.
+
+A half-hour later, at the horse-breeding ranch, the Young Doctor
+introduced Jean Jacques to Norah Doyle, and instantly left the house. He
+had no wish to hear the interview which must take place between the two.
+Nolan Doyle was not at home, but in the room where they were shown to
+Norah was a cradle. Norah was rocking it with one foot while, standing
+by the table, she busied herself with sewing.
+
+The introduction was of the briefest. "Monsieur Barbille wishes a
+word with you, Mrs. Doyle," said the Young Doctor. "It's a matter that
+doesn't need me. Monsieur has been in my care, as you know.... Well,
+there, I hope Nolan is all right. Tell him I'd like to see him to-morrow
+about the bay stallion and the roans. I've had an offer for them.
+Good-bye--good-bye, Mrs. Doyle"--he was at the door--"I hope you
+and Monsieur Barbille will decide what's best for the child without
+difficulty."
+
+The door opened quickly and shut again, and Jean Jacques was alone with
+the woman and the child. "What's best for the child!"
+
+That was what the Young Doctor had said. Norah stopped rocking the
+cradle and stared at the closed door. What had this man before her, this
+tramp habitant of whom she had heard, of course, to do with little
+Zoe in the cradle--her little Zoe who had come just when she was most
+needed; who had brought her man and herself close together again after
+an estrangement which neither had seemed able to prevent.
+
+"What's best for the child!" How did the child in the cradle concern
+this man? Then suddenly his name almost shrieked in her brain.
+Barbille--that was the name on the letter found on the body of the woman
+who died and left Zoe behind--M. Jean Jacques Barbille.
+
+Yes, that was the name. What was going to happen? Did the man intend to
+try and take Zoe from her?
+
+"What is your name--all of it?" she asked sharply. She had a very fine
+set of teeth, as Jean Jacques saw mechanically; and subconsciously
+he said to himself that they seemed cruel, they were so white and
+regular--and cruel. The cruelty was evident to him as she bit in two
+the thread for the waistcoat she was mending, and then plied her needle
+again. Also the needle in her fingers might have been intended to sew
+up his shroud, so angry did it appear at the moment. But her teeth had
+something almost savage about them. If he had seen them when she was
+smiling, he would have thought them merely beautiful and rare, atoning
+for her plain face and flat breast--not so flat as it had been; for
+since the child had come into her life, her figure, strangely enough,
+had rounded out, and lines never before seen in her contour appeared.
+
+He braced himself for the contest he knew was at hand, and replied to
+her. "My name is Jean Jacques Barbille. I was of the Manor Cartier, in
+St. Saviour's parish, Quebec. The mother of the child Zoe, there, was
+born at the Manor Cartier. I was her father. I am the grandfather of
+this Zoe." He motioned towards the cradle.
+
+Then, with an impulse he could not check and did not seek to check--why
+should he? was not the child his own by every right?--he went to the
+cradle and looked down at the tiny face on its white pillow. There
+could be no mistake about it; here was the face of his lost Zoe, with
+something, too, of Carmen, and also the forehead of the Barbilles. As
+though the child knew, it opened its eyes wide-big, brown eyes like
+those of Carmen Dolores.
+
+"Ah, the beautiful, beloved thing!" he exclaimed in a low-voice, ere
+Norah stepped between and almost pushed him back. An outstretched arm in
+front of her prevented him from stooping to kiss the child. "Stand back.
+The child must not be waked," she said. "It must sleep another hour.
+It has its milk at twelve o'clock. Stand aside. I won't have my child
+disturbed."
+
+"Have my child disturbed"--that was what she had said, and Jean Jacques
+realized what he had to overbear. Here was the thing which must be
+fought out at once.
+
+"The child is not yours, but mine," he declared. "Here is proof--the
+letter found on my Zoe when she died--addressed to me. The doctor knew.
+There is no mistake."
+
+He held out the letter for her to see. "As you can read here, my
+daughter was on her way back to the Manor Cartier, to her old home at
+St. Saviour's. She was on her way back when she died. If she had lived
+I should have had them both; but one is left, according to the will of
+God. And so I will take her--this flower of the prairie--and begin life
+again."
+
+The face Norah turned on him had that look which is in the face of
+an animal, when its young is being forced from it--fierce, hungering,
+furtive, vicious.
+
+"The child is mine," she exclaimed--"mine and no other's. The prairie
+gave it to me. It came to me out of the storm. 'Tis mine-mine only. I
+was barren and wantin', and my man was slippin' from me, because there
+was only two of us in our home. I was older than him, and yonder was a
+girl with hair like a sheaf of wheat in the sun, and she kept lookin' at
+him, and he kept goin' to her. 'Twas a man she wanted, 'twas a child
+he wanted, and there they were wantin', and me atin' my heart out with
+passion and pride and shame and sorrow. There was he wantin' a child,
+and the girl wantin' a man, and I only wantin' what God should grant all
+women that give themselves to a man's arms after the priest has blessed
+them. And whin all was at the worst, and it looked as if he was away
+with her--the girl yonder--then two things happened. A man--he was me
+own brother and a millionaire if I do say it--he took her and married
+her; and then, too, Heaven's will sent this child's mother to her last
+end and the child itself to my Nolan's arms. To my husband's arms first
+it came, you understand; and he give the child to me, as it should be,
+and said he, 'We'll make believe it is our own.' But I said to him,
+'There's no make-believe. 'Tis mine. 'Tis mine. It came to me out of the
+storm from the hand of God.' And so it was and is; and all's well here
+in the home, praise be to God. And listen to me: you'll not come here
+to take the child away from me. It can't be done. I'll not have it. Yes,
+you can let that sink down into you--I'll not have it."
+
+During her passionate and defiant appeal Jean Jacques was restless with
+the old unrest of years ago, and his face twitched with emotion; but
+before she had finished he had himself in some sort of control.
+
+"You--madame, you are only thinking of yourself in this. You are only
+thinking what you want, what you and your man need. But it's not to be
+looked at that way only, and--"
+
+"Well, then it isn't to be looked at that way only," she interrupted.
+"As you say, it isn't Nolan and me alone to be considered. There's--"
+
+"There's me," he interrupted sharply. "The child is bone of my bone. It
+is bone of all the Barbilles back to the time of Louis XI."--he had said
+that long ago to Zoe first, and it was now becoming a fact in his mind.
+"It is linked up in the chain of the history of the Barbilles. It is one
+with the generations of noblesse and honour and virtue. It is--"
+
+"It's one with Abel the son of Adam, if it comes to that, and so am I,"
+Norah bitingly interjected, while her eyes flashed fire, and she rocked
+the cradle more swiftly than was good for the child's sleep.
+
+Jean Jacques flared up. "There were sons and daughters of the family of
+Adam that had names, but there were plenty others you whistled to as you
+would to a four-footer, and they'd come. The Barbilles had names--always
+names of their own back to Adam. The child is a Barbille--Don't rock the
+cradle so fast," he suddenly added with an irritable gesture, breaking
+off from his argument. "Don't you know better than that when a child's
+asleep? Do you want it to wake up and cry?"
+
+She flushed to the roots of her hair, for he had said something for
+which she had no reply. She had undoubtedly disturbed the child. It
+stirred in its sleep, then opened its eyes, and at once began to cry.
+
+"There," said Jean Jacques, "what did I tell you? Any one that had ever
+had children would know better than that."
+
+Norah paid no attention to his mocking words, to the undoubted-truth
+of his complaint. Stooping over, she gently lifted the child up. With
+hungry tenderness she laid it against her breast and pressed its cheek
+to her own, murmuring and crooning to it.
+
+"Acushla! Acushla! Ah, the pretty bird--mother's sweet--mother's angel!"
+she said softly.
+
+She rocked backwards and forwards. Her eyes, though looking at Jean
+Jacques as she crooned and coaxed and made lullaby, apparently did not
+see him. She was as concentrated as though it were a matter of life and
+death. She was like some ancient nurse of a sovereign-child, plainly
+dressed, while the dainty white clothes of the babe in her arms--ah,
+hadn't she raided the hoard she had begun when first married, in the
+hope of a child of her own, to provide this orphan with clothes good
+enough for a royal princess!
+
+The flow of the long, white dress of the waif on the dark blue of
+Norah's gown, which so matched the deep sapphire of her eyes, caught
+Jean Jacques' glance, allured his mind. It was the symbol of youth and
+innocence and home. Suddenly he had a vision of the day when his own Zoe
+had been given to the cradle for the first time, and he had done exactly
+what Norah had done--rocked too fast and too hard, and waked his little
+one; and Carmen had taken her up in her long white draperies, and had
+rocked to and fro, just like this, singing a lullaby. That lullaby
+he had himself sung often afterwards; and now, with his grandchild in
+Norah's arms there before him--with this other Zoe--the refrain of it
+kept lilting in his brain. In the pause ensuing, when Norah stooped
+to put the pacified child again in its nest, he also stooped over the
+cradle and began to hum the words of the lullaby:
+
+     "Sing, little bird, of the whispering leaves,
+     Sing a song of the harvest sheaves;
+     Sing a song to my Fanchonette,
+     Sing a song to my Fanchonette!
+     Over her eyes, over her eyes, over her eyes of violet,
+     See the web that the weaver weaves,
+     The web of sleep that the weaver weaves--
+     Weaves, weaves, weaves!
+     Over those eyes of violet,
+     Over those eyes of my Fanchonette,
+     Weaves, weaves, weaves--
+     See the web that the weaver weaves!"
+
+For quite two minutes Jean Jacques and Norah Doyle stooped over
+the cradle, looking at Zoe's rosy, healthy, pretty face, as though
+unconscious of each other, and only conscious of the child. When Jean
+Jacques had finished the long first verse of the chanson, and would have
+begun another, Norah made a protesting gesture.
+
+"She's asleep, and there's no more need," she said. "Wasn't it a good
+lullaby, madame?" Jean Jacques asked.
+
+"So, so," she replied, on her defence again.
+
+"It was good enough for her mother," he replied, pointing to the cradle.
+
+"It's French and fanciful," she retorted--"both music and words."
+
+"The child's French--what would you have?" asked Jean Jacques
+indignantly.
+
+"The child's father was English, and she's goin' to be English, the
+darlin', from now on and on and on. That's settled. There's manny an
+English and Irish lullaby that'll be sung to her hence and onward; and
+there's manny an English song she'll sing when she's got her voice, and
+is big enough. Well, I think she'll sing like a canary."
+
+"Do the birds sing in English?" exclaimed Jean Jacques, with anger in
+his face now. Was there ever any vanity like the vanity of these people
+who had made the conquest of Quebec, when sixteen Barbilles lost their
+lives, one of them being aide-de-camp to M. Vaudreuil, the governor!
+
+"All the canaries I ever heard sung in English," she returned
+stubbornly.
+
+"How do Frenchmen understand their singing, then?" irritably questioned
+Jean Jacques.
+
+"Well, in translation only," she retorted, and with her sharp white
+teeth she again bit the black thread of her needle, tied the end into a
+little knot, and began to mend the waistcoat which she had laid down in
+the first moments of the interview.
+
+"I want the child," Jean Jacques insisted abruptly. "I'll wait till she
+wakes, and then I'll wrap her up and take her away."
+
+"Didn't you hear me say she was to be brought up English?" asked Norah,
+with a slowness which clothed her fiercest impulses.
+
+"Name of God, do you think I'll let you have her!" returned Jean Jacques
+with asperity and decision. "You say you are alone, you and your M'sieu'
+Nolan. Well, I am alone--all alone in the world, and I need her--Mother
+of God, I need her more than I ever needed anything in my life! You have
+each other, but I have only myself, and it is not good company. Besides,
+the child is mine, a Barbille of Barbilles, une legitime--a rightful
+child of marriage. But if it was a love-child only it would still be
+mine, being my daughter's child. Look you, it is no such thing. It is of
+those who can claim inheritance back to Louis XI. She will be to me the
+gift of God in return for the robbery of death."
+
+He leaned over the cradle, and his look was like that of one who had
+found a treasure in the earth.
+
+Now she struck hard. Yet very subtly too did she attack him. "You--you
+are thinking of yourself, m'sieu', only of yourself. Aren't you going to
+think of the child at all? It isn't yourself that counts so much. You've
+had your day, or the part of it that matters most. But her time is
+not yet even begun. It's all--all--before her. You say you'll take her
+away--well, to what? To what will you take her? What have you got to
+give her? What--"
+
+"I have the three hundred and twenty acres out there"--he pointed
+westward--"and I will make a home and begin again with her."
+
+"Three hundred and twenty acres--'out there'!" she exclaimed in scorn.
+"Any one can have a farm here for the askin'. What is that? Is it a
+home? What have you got to start a home with? Do you deny you are no
+better than a tramp? Have you got a hundred dollars in the world? Have
+you got a roof over your head? Have you got a trade? You'll take her
+where--to what? Even if you had a home, what then? You would have to get
+someone to look after her--some old crone, a wench maybe, who'd be as
+fit to bring up a child as I would be to--" she paused and looked round
+in helpless quest for a simile, when, in despair, she caught sight of
+Jean Jacques' watch-chain--"as I would be to make a watch!" she added.
+
+Instinctively Jean Jacques drew out the ancient timepiece he had worn
+on the Grand Tour; which had gone down with the Antoine and come up with
+himself. It gave him courage to make the fight for his own.
+
+"The good God would see that--" he began.
+
+"The good God doesn't interfere in bringing up babies," she retorted.
+"That's the work for the fathers and mothers, or godfathers and
+godmothers."
+
+"You are neither," exclaimed Jean Jacques. "You have no rights at all."
+
+"I have no rights--eh? I have no rights! Look at the child. Look at the
+way she's clothed. Look at the cradle in which it lies. It cost fifteen
+dollars; and the clothes--what they cost would keep a family half a
+year. I have no rights, is it?--I who stepped in and took the child
+without question, without bein' asked, and made it my own, and treated
+it as if it was me own. No, by the love of God, I treated it far, far
+better than if it had been me own. Because a child was denied me, the
+hunger of the years made me love the child as a mother would on a desert
+island with one child at her knees."
+
+"You can get another-one not your own, as this isn't," argued Jean
+Jacques fiercely.
+
+She was not to be forced to answer his arguments directly. She chose her
+own course to convince. "Nolan loves this child as if it was his," she
+declared, her eyes all afire, "but he mightn't love another--men are
+queer creatures. Then where would I be? and what would the home be but
+what it was before--as cold, as cold and bitter! It was the hand of God
+brought the child to the door of two people who had no child and who
+prayed for one. Do you deny it was the hand of God that brought your
+daughter here away, that put the child in my arms? Not its mother, am
+I not? But I love her better than twenty mothers could. It's the
+hunger--the hunger--the hunger in me. She's made a woman of me. She has
+a home where everything is hers--everything. To see Nolan play with her,
+tossin' her up and down in his arms as if he'd done it all his life--as
+natural as natural! To take her away from that--all the comfort here
+where she can have anything she wants! With my old mother to care for
+her, if so be I was away to market or whereabouts--one that brought up
+six children, a millionaire among them, praise be to God as my mother
+did--to take this delicate little thing away from here, what a sin and
+crime 'twould be! She herself 'd never forgive you for it, if ever she
+grew up--though that's not likely, things bein' as they are with you,
+and you bein' what you are. Ah, there--there she is awake and smilin',
+and kickin' up her pretty toes this minute! There she is, the lovely
+little Zoe, with eyes like black pearls.... See now--see now which
+she'll come to--to you or me, m'sieu'. There, put out your arms to
+her, and I'll put out mine, and see which she'll take. I'll stand by
+that--I'll stand by that. Let the child decide. Hold out your arms, and
+so will I."
+
+With an impassioned word Jean Jacques reached down his arms to the
+child, which lay laughing up at them and kicking its pink toes into the
+air, and Norah Doyle did the same, murmuring an Irish love-name for a
+child. Jean Jacques was silent, but in his face was the longing of a
+soul sick for home, of one who desires the end of a toilsome road.
+
+The laughing child crooned and spluttered and shook its head, as though
+it was playing some happy game. It looked first at Norah, then at
+Jean Jacques, then at Norah again, and then, with a little gurgle of
+pleasure, stretched out its arms to her and half-raised itself from
+the pillow. With a glad cry Norah gathered it to her bosom, and triumph
+shone in her face.
+
+"Ah, there, you see!" she said, as she lifted her face from the blossom
+at her breast.
+
+"There it is," said Jean Jacques with shaking voice.
+
+"You have nothing to give her--I have everything," she urged. "My rights
+are that I would die for the child--oh, fifty times!... What are you
+going to do, m'sieu'?"
+
+Jean Jacques slowly turned and picked up his hat. He moved with the
+dignity of a hero who marches towards a wall to meet the bullets of a
+firing-squad.
+
+"You are going?" Norah whispered, and in her eyes was a great relief and
+the light of victory. The golden link binding Nolan and herself was in
+her arms, over her heart.
+
+Jean Jacques did not speak a word in reply, though his lips moved. She
+held out the little one to him for a good-bye, but he shook his head.
+If he did that--if he once held her in his arms--he would not be able to
+give her up. Gravely and solemnly, however, he stooped over and kissed
+the lips of the child lying against Norah's breast. As he did so, with a
+quick, mothering instinct Norah impulsively kissed his shaggy head, and
+her eyes filled with tears. She smiled too, and Jean Jacques saw how
+beautiful her teeth were--cruel no longer.
+
+He moved away slowly. At the door he turned, and looked back at the
+two--a long, lingering look he gave. Then he faced away from them again.
+
+"Moi je suis philosophe," he said gently, and opened the door and
+stepped out and away into the frozen world.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+Change might lay its hand on the parish of St. Saviour's, and it did
+so on the beautiful sentient living thing, as on the thing material and
+man-made; but there was no change in the sheltering friendship of Mont
+Violet or the flow of the illustrious Beau Cheval. The autumns also
+changed not at all. They cast their pensive canopies over the home-scene
+which Jean Jacques loved so well, before he was exhaled from its bosom.
+
+One autumn when the hillsides were in those colours which none but a
+rainbow of the moon ever had, so delicately sad, so tenderly assuring,
+a traveller came back to St. Saviour's after a long journey. He came by
+boat to the landing at the Manor Cartier, rather than by train to
+the railway-station, from which there was a drive of several miles to
+Vilray. At the landing he was met by a woman, as much a miniature of the
+days of Orleanist France as himself. She wore lace mits which covered
+the hands but not the fingers, and her gown showed the outline of a meek
+crinoline.
+
+"Ah, Fille--ah, dear Fille!" said the little fragment of an antique day,
+as the Clerk of the Court--rather, he that had been for so many years
+Clerk of the Court--stepped from the boat. "I can scarce believe that
+you are here once more. Have you good news?"
+
+"It was to come back with good news that I went," her brother answered
+smiling, his face lighted by an inner exaltation.
+
+"Dear, dear Fille!" She always called him that now, and not by his
+Christian name, as though he was a peer. She had done so ever since the
+Government had made him a magistrate, and Laval University had honoured
+him with the degree of doctor of laws.
+
+She was leading him to the pony-carriage in which she had come to meet
+him, when he said:
+
+"Do you think you could walk the distance, my dear?... It would be like
+old times," he added gently.
+
+"I could walk twice as far to-day," she answered, and at once gave
+directions for the young coachman to put "His Honour's" bag into the
+carriage. In spite of Fille's reproofs she insisted in calling him that
+to the servants. They had two servants now, thanks to the legacy left
+them by the late Judge Carcasson. Presently M. Fille took her by the
+hand. "Before we start--one look yonder," he murmured, pointing towards
+the mill which had once belonged to Jean Jacques, now rebuilt and
+looking almost as of old. "I promised Jean Jacques that I would come and
+salute it in his name, before I did aught else, and so now I do salute
+it."
+
+He waved a hand and made a bow to the gold Cock of Beaugard, the pride
+of all the vanished Barbilles. "Jean Jacques Barbille says that his
+head is up like yours, M. le Coq, and he wishes you many, many winds to
+come," he recited quite seriously, and as though it was not out of tune
+with the modern world.
+
+The gold Cock of Beaugard seemed to understand, for it swung to the
+left, and now a little to the right, and then stood still, as if looking
+at the little pair of exiles from an ancient world--of which the only
+vestiges remaining may be found in old Quebec.
+
+This ceremony over, they walked towards Mont Violet, averting their
+heads as they passed the Manor Cartier, in a kind of tribute to its
+departed master--as a Stuart Legitimist might pass the big palace at
+the end of the Mall in London. In the wood-path, Fille took his sister's
+hand.
+
+"I will tell you what you are so trembling to hear," he said. "There
+they are at peace, Jean Jacques and Virginie--that best of best women."
+
+"To think--married to Virginie Poucette--to think of that!" His sister's
+voice fluttered as she spoke. "But entirely. There was nothing in the
+way--and she meant to have him, the dear soul! I do not blame her, for
+at bottom he is as good a man as lives. Our Judge called him 'That dear
+fool, Jean Jacques, a man of men in his way, after all,' and our Judge
+was always right--but yes, nearly always right."
+
+After a moment of contented meditation he resumed. "Well, when Virginie
+sold her place here and went to live with her sister out at Shilah in
+the West, she said, 'If Jean Jacques is alive, he will be on the land
+which was Zoe's, which he bought for her. If he is alive--then!' So
+it was, and by one of the strange accidents which chance or women like
+Virginie, who have plenty of courage in their simpleness, arrange, they
+met on that three hundred and sixty acres. It was like the genius of
+Jean Jacques to have done that one right thing which would save him in
+the end--a thing which came out of his love for his child--the emotion
+of an hour. Indeed, that three hundred and sixty acres was his
+salvation after he learned of Zoe's death, and the other little Zoe, his
+grandchild, was denied to him--to close his heart against what seemed
+that last hope, was it not courage? And so, and so he has the reward of
+his own soul--a home at last once more."
+
+"With Virginie Poucette--Fille, Fille, how things come round!" exclaimed
+the little lady in the tiny bonnet with the mauve strings.
+
+"More than Virginie came round," he replied almost oracularly. "Who,
+think you, brought him the news that coal was found on his acres--who
+but the husband of Virginie's sister! Then came Virginie. On the day
+Jean Jacques saw her again, he said to her, 'What you would have given
+me at such cost, now let me pay for with the rest of my life. It is the
+great thought which was in your heart that I will pay for with the days
+left to me.'"
+
+A flickering smile brightened the sensitive ascetic face, and humour was
+in the eyes. "What do you think Virginie said to that? Her sister told
+me. Virginie said to that, 'You will have more days left, Jean Jacques,
+if you have a better cook. What do you like best for supper?' And Jean
+Jacques laughed much at that. Years ago he would have made a speech at
+it!"
+
+"Then he is no more a philosopher?"
+
+"Oh always, always, but in his heart, and not with his tongue. I cried,
+and so did he, when we met and when we parted. I think I am getting old,
+for indeed I could not help it: yet there was peace in his eyes--peace."
+
+"His eyes used to rustle so."
+
+"Rustle--that is the word. Now, that is what, he has learned in
+life--the way to peace. When I left him, it was with Virginie close
+beside him, and when I said to him, 'Will you come back to us one day,
+Jean Jacques?' he said, 'But no, Fille, my friend; it is too far. I see
+it--it is a million miles away--too great a journey to go with the feet,
+but with the soul I will visit it. The soul is a great traveller. I see
+it always--the clouds and the burnings and the pitfalls gone--out
+of sight--in memory as it was when I was a child. Well, there it is,
+everything has changed, except the child-memory. I have had, and I have
+had not; and there it is. I am not the same man--but yes, in my love
+just the same, with all the rest--' He did not go on, so I said, 'If not
+the same, then what are you, Jean Jacques?'"
+
+"Ah, Fille, in the old days he would have said that he was a
+philosopher"--said his sister interrupting. "Yes, yes, one knows--he
+said it often enough and had need enough to say it. Well, said he to me,
+'Me, I am a'--then he stopped, shook his head, and so I could scarcely
+hear him, murmured, 'Me--I am a man who has been a long journey with a
+pack on his back, and has got home again.' Then he took Virginie's hand
+in his."
+
+The old man's fingers touched the corner of his eye as though to find
+something there; then continued. "'Ah, a pedlar!' said I to him, to hear
+what he would answer. 'Follies to sell for sous of wisdom,' he answered.
+Then he put his arm around Virginie, and she gave him his pipe."
+
+"I wish M. Carcasson knew," the little grey lady remarked.
+
+"But of course he knows," said the Clerk of the Court, with his face
+turned to the sunset.
+
+
+     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     Air of certainty and universal comprehension
+     Always calling to something, for something outside ourselves
+     Being generous with other people's money
+     Came of a race who set great store by mothers and grandmothers
+     Confidence in a weak world gets unearned profit often
+     Courage which awaits the worst the world can do
+     Enjoy his own generosity
+     Good thing for a man himself to be owed kindness
+     Grove of pines to give a sense of warmth in winter
+     Grow more intense, more convinced, more thorough, as they talk
+     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
+     He admired, yet he wished to be admired
+     He hated irony in anyone else
+     I had to listen to him, and he had to pay me for listening
+     I can't pay you for your kindness to me, and I don't want to
+     I said I was not falling in love--I am in love
+     If you have a good thought, act on it
+     Inclined to resent his own insignificance
+     Lacks a balance-wheel. He has brains, but not enough
+     Law. It is expensive whether you win or lose
+     Lyrical in his enthusiasms
+     Man who tells the story in a new way, that is genius
+     Missed being a genius by an inch
+     No past that is hidden has ever been a happy past
+     No man so simply sincere, or so extraordinarily prejudiced
+     Not content to do even the smallest thing ill
+     Of those who hypnotize themselves, who glow with self-creation
+     Philosophers are often stupid in human affairs
+     Protest that it is right when it knows that it is wrong
+     She was not to be forced to answer his arguments directly
+     Spurting out little geysers of other people's cheap wisdom
+     That iceberg which most mourners carry in their breasts
+     The beginning of the end of things was come for him
+     The soul is a great traveller
+     Untamed by the normal restraints of a happy married life
+     You can't take time as the measure of life
+     You went north towards heaven and south towards hell
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Money Master, Complete, by Gilbert Parker
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