HE planted himself directly in her way at the river-crossing; and just
as she stepped on the foot-bridge which leads to Dollins, she beheld the
waif, astride of the plank, a leg dangling on each side above the water,
and on his face the expression of a man who has all the time in the
world to spare. She blushed as red as a cherry, and if she had not been
taken so by surprise, she would have swerved aside, and pretended to be
passing by accident.
But the approach to the bridge was obstructed by branches, and she did
not see the wolf till she felt his teeth. His face was turned toward
her, so she had no means of advancing or retreating, without being
observed.
"Master Miller," she began, saucily, "can't you move a hairbreadth to
let anybody pass?"
"No, my young lady," replied François, "for I am the guardian of this
bridge till evening, and I claim the right to collect toll of
everybody."
"Are you mad, François? Nobody pays toll in our country, and you have
no right on any bridge, or foot-bridge, or whatever you may call it in
your country of Aigurande. You may say what you like, but take yourself
off from here, as quickly as you can; this is not the place for jesting;
you will make me tumble into the water."
"Then," said François, without moving, and folding his arms in front of
him, "you think that I want to laugh and joke with you, and that my
right of toll is that of paying you my court? Pray get rid of that idea,
my young lady; I wish to speak sensibly to you, and I will allow you to
pass if you give me permission to accompany you for a short part of your
way."
"That would not be at all proper," said Mariette, somewhat flustered by
her notion of what François was thinking. "What would they say of me
hereabouts, if anybody met me out walking alone with a man to whom I am
not betrothed?"
"You are right," said François; "as Sévère is not here to protect
you, people would talk of you; that is why you are going to her house,
so that you may walk about in her garden with all your admirers. Very
well, so as not to embarrass you, I shall speak to you here, and
briefly, for my business is pressing, and this it is. You are a good
girl; you love your sister-in-law Madeleine; you see that she is in
difficulties, and you must want to help her out of them."
"If that is what you want to say," returned Mariette, "I shall listen to
you, for you are speaking the truth."
"Very well, my dear young lady," said François, rising and leaning
beside her, against the bank beside the little bridge, "you can do a
great service to Madame Blanchet. Since it is for her good and interest,
as I fondly believe, that you are so friendly with Sévère, you must
make that woman agree to a compromise. Sévère is trying to attain two
objects which are incompatible: she wants to make Master Blanchet's
estate security for the payment of the land he sold for the purpose of
paying his debts to her; and in the second place, she means to exact
payment of the notes which he signed in her favor. She may go to law, if
she likes, and wrangle about this poor little estate, but she cannot
succeed in getting more out of it than there is. Make her understand
that if she does not insist upon our guaranteeing the payment of the
land, we can pay her notes; but if she does not allow us to get rid of
one debt, we shall not have funds enough to pay the other, and if she
makes us drain ourselves with expenses which bring her no profit, she
runs the risk of losing everything."
"That is true," said Mariette; "although I understand very little about
business, I think I can understand as much as that. If I am able, by any
chance, to influence her, which would be better: for my sister-in-law to
pay the notes, or to be obliged to redeem the security?"
"It would be worse for her to pay the notes, for it would be more
unjust. We could contest the notes and go to law about them; but the law
requires money, and you know that there is none, and never will be any,
at the mill. So, it is all one to your sister, whether her little all
goes in a lawsuit or in paying Sévère; whereas it is better for
Sévère to be paid, without having a lawsuit.
"As Madeleine is sure to be ruined in either case, she prefers to have
all her possessions seized at once, than to drag on after this under a
heavy burden of debt, which may last all her lifetime; for the
purchasers of Cadet Blanchet's land are not able to pay for it. Sévère
knows this well, and will be forced, some fine day, to take back her
land; but this idea is not at all distressing to her, as it will be a
profitable speculation for her to receive the land in an improved
condition, having long drawn a heavy rate of interest from it. Thus,
Sévère risks nothing in setting us free, and assures the payment of
her notes."
"I shall do as you say," said Mariette; "and if I fail, you may think as
ill of me as you choose."
"Then, good luck, Mariette, and a pleasant walk to you," said François,
stepping out of her way.
Little Mariette started off to Dollins, well pleased to have such a fine
excuse for going there, for staying a long time, and for returning often
during the next few days. Sévère pretended to like what she heard, but
she really determined to be in no haste. She had always hated Madeleine
Blanchet, because of the involuntary respect her husband had felt for
her. She thought she held her safely in her claws for the whole of her
lifetime, and preferred to give up the notes, which she knew to be of no
great value, rather than renounce the pleasure of harassing her with the
burden of an endless debt.
François understood all this perfectly, and was anxious to induce her
to exact the payment of this debt, so that he might have an opportunity
to buy back Jennie's broad fields from those who had purchased them for
a song. When Mariette returned with her answer, he saw that they were
trying to mislead him with words; that, on one hand, the young girl was
glad to have her errands last for a long time to come, and that, on the
other hand. Sévère had not reached the point of being more desirous
for Madeleine's rain than for the payment of her notes.
To clinch matters, he took Mariette aside, two days afterward.
"My dear young lady," said he, "you most not go to Dollins to-day. Your
sister has learned, though I do not know how, that you go there more
than once a day, and she says it is no place for a respectable girl. I
have tried to make her understand that it is for her interest that you
are so friendly with Sévère; but she blamed me as well as you. She
says that she would rather be ruined than have you lose your reputation,
that you are under her guardianship, and that she has authority over
you. If you do not obey of your own free will, you will be prevented
from going by main force. If you do as she says, she will not mention
this to you, as she wishes to avoid giving you pain, but she is very
much displeased with you, and it would be well for you to beg her
pardon."
François had no sooner unleashed the dog than it began to bark and
bite. He was correct in his estimate of little Mariette's temper, which
was as hasty and inflammable as her brother's had been.
"Indeed, indeed!" she exclaimed; "do you expect me to obey my
sister-in-law, as if I were a child of three? You talk as if she were my
mother, and I owed her submission! What makes her think that I may lose
my reputation? Tell her that it is quite as well buckled on as her own,
and perhaps better. Why does she imagine that Sévère is not so good as
other people? Is it wicked not to spend the whole day sewing, spinning,
and praying? My sister-in-law is unjust because she has a quarrel with
her about money, and she thinks she can treat her as she pleases. It is
very imprudent of her, for if Sévère wished she could turn her out of
the house she lives in; and as Sévère is patient, and does not make
use of her advantage, she is certainly better than she is said to be.
And this is the way in which you thank me, who have been obliging enough
to take part in these disputes, which are no concern of mine! I can tell
you, François, that the most respectable people are not always the most
prudish, and when I go to Sévère's I do no more mischief than if I
stayed at home."
"I don't know about that," said François, who was determined to make
all the scum of the vat mount to the surface; "perhaps your sister was
right in thinking that you are in some mischief there. Look here,
Mariette, I see that you like to go there too well. It is not natural.
You have delivered your message about Madeleine's affairs, and since
Sévère has sent no answer, it is evident that she means to give none.
Do not go back there any more, or I shall think, with Madeleine, that
you go with no good intention."
"Then, Master François," cried Mariette, in a fury, "you think you are
going to dictate to me? Do you mean to take my brother's place at home,
and make yourself master there? You have not enough beard on your chin
to give me such a lecture, and I advise you to leave me alone. Your
humble servant," she added, adjusting her coif; "if my sister-in-law
asks where I am, tell her that I am at Sévère's, and if she sends you
after me, you will see how you are received."
She burst the door open violently, and flew off with a light foot toward
Dollins; but as François was afraid that her anger would cool on the
way, especially as the weather was frosty, he allowed her a little
start. He waited until he thought she had nearly reached Sévère's
house, and then putting his long legs in motion he ran like a horse let
loose, and caught up with her, to make her believe that Madeleine had
sent him in pursuit of her.
He was so provoking that she raised her hand against him. He dodged her
every time, being well aware that anger evaporates with blows, and that
a woman's temper improves when she has relieved herself by striking.
Then he ran away, and as soon as Mariette arrived at Sévère's house
she made a great explosion. The poor child had really no bad designs;
but in the first flame of her anger she disclosed everything, and put
Sévère into such a towering passion that François, who was retreating
noiselessly through the lane, heard them at the other end of the
hemp-field, hissing and crackling like fire in a barn full of hay.
[Illustration]