HIS plan succeeded admirably, and he was so sure of it that he went over
to Aigurande next day, took his money from the priest, and returned at
night, carrying the four little notes of thin paper, which were of such
great value, and yet made no more noise in his pocket than a crumb of
bread in a cap. After a week's time, Sévère made herself heard. All
the purchasers of Blanchet's land were summoned to pay up, and as not
one was able to do it. Sévère threatened to make Madeleine pay
instead.
Madeleine was much alarmed when she heard the news, for she had received
no hint from François of what was coming.
"Good!" said he to her, rubbing his hands; "a trader cannot always gain,
nor a thief always rob. Madame Sévère is going to make a bad bargain
and you a good one. All the same, my dear mother, you must behave as if
you thought you were ruined. The sadder you are, the gladder she will be
to do what she thinks is to your harm. But that harm is your salvation,
for when you pay Sévère you will buy back your son's inheritance."
"What do you expect me to pay her with, my child?"
"With the money I have in my pocket, and which belongs to you."
Madeleine tried to dissuade him; but the waif was headstrong, as he said
himself, and no one could loose what he had bound. He hastened to
deposit two hundred pistoles with the notary, in the widow Blanchet's
name, and Sévère was paid in full, willingly or unwillingly, and also
all the other creditors of the estate, who had made common cause with
her.
Moreover, after François had indemnified all the poor purchasers of the
land for their losses, he had still enough money with which to go to
law, and he let Sévère know that he was about to embark in a lawsuit
on the subject of the promissory notes which she had wrongfully and
fraudulently extracted from the miller. He set afloat a report which
spread far and wide through the land. He pretended that in fumbling
about an old wall of the mill which he was trying to prop up, he had
found old Mother Blanchet's money-box, filled with gold coins of an
ancient stamp, and that by this means Madeleine was richer than she had
ever been. Weary of warfare, Sévère consented to a compromise, hoping
also that François would be lavish of the crowns winch he had so
opportunely discovered, and that she could wheedle from him more than he
gave her to expect. She got nothing for her pains, however, and he was
so hard with her that she was forced to return the notes in exchange for
a hundred crowns.
To revenge herself, she worked upon little Mariette, telling her that
the money-box of old Mother Blanchet, who was the girl's grandmother,
should have been divided between her and Jeannie, that she had a right
to her share, and should go to law against her sister.
Then the waif was forced to tell the true source of the money he had
provided, and the priest of Aigurande sent him the proofs, in case of
there being a lawsuit.
He began by showing these proofs to Mariette, begging her to make no
unnecessary disclosures, and making it dear to her that she had better
keep quiet. But Mariette would not keep at all quiet; her little brain
was excited by the confusion in the family, and the devil tempted the
poor child. In spite of all the kindness she had received from
Madeleine, who had treated her as a daughter and indulged all her whims,
she felt a dislike and jealousy of her sister-in-law, although her pride
prevented her from acknowledging it. The truth is that in the midst of
her tantrums and quarrels with François, she had inadvertently fallen
in love with him, and never suspected the trap which the devil had set
for her. The more François upbraided her for her faults and vagaries,
the more crazy she was to please him.
She was not the kind of girl to pine and consume away in grief and
tears; but it robbed her of her peace to think that François was so
handsome, rich, and upright, so kind to everybody, and so clever and
brave; that he was a man to shed his last drop of blood for the woman he
loved, and yet that none of this was for her, although she was the
prettiest and richest girl in the neighborhood, and counted her lovers
by the dozen.
One day she opened her heart to her false friend, Sévère. It was in
the pasture at the end of the road of the water-lilies, underneath an
old apple-tree that was then in blossom. While all these things were
happening, the month of May had come, and Sévère strolled out under
the apple-blossoms, to chat with Mariette, who was tending her flock
beside the river.
It pleased God that François, who was near by, should overhear their
conversation. He had seen Sévère enter the pasture, and at once
suspected her of meditating some intrigue against Madeleine; and as the
river was low, he walked noiselessly along the bank, beneath the bushes
which are so tall just there that a hay-cart could pass under their
shade. When he came within hearing distance, he sat down on the ground,
without making a sound, and opened his ears very wide.
The two women plied their tongues busily. In the first place, Mariette
confessed to not caring for a single one of her suitors, for the sake of
a young miller, who was not at all courteous to her, and the thought of
whom kept her awake at night. Sévère, on the other hand, wanted to
unite her to a young man of her acquaintance, who was so much in love
with the girl, that he had promised a handsome wedding-present to
Sévère, if she succeeded in marrying him to Mariette Blanchet. It
appeared also that Sévère had exacted a gratuity beforehand from him
and from several others; so she naturally did all in her power to put
Mariette out of conceit with François.
"A plague take the waif!" she exclaimed. "What, Mariette, a girl in your
position marry a foundling! You would be called Madame Strawberry, for
he has no other name. I should be ashamed for you, my poor darling. Then
you have no chance; you would be obliged to light for him with your
sister-in-law, for he is her lover, as true as I live."
"Sévère," cried Mariette, "you have hinted this to me more than once;
but I cannot believe you; my sister-in-law is too old."
"No, no, Mariette; your sister-in-law is not old enough to do without
this sort of thing; she is only thirty, and when the waif was but a boy,
your brother discovered that he was too familiar with his wife. That is
why he gave him a sound thrashing with the butt of his whip, and turned
him out of doors."
François felt a lively desire to spring out of the bushes and tell
Sévère that she lied; but he restrained himself, and sat motionless.
Sévère continued to ring the changes on this subject, and told so many
shocking lies that François's face burned, and it was with great
difficulty that he kept his patience.
"Then," said Mariette, "he probably means to marry her now that she is a
widow; he has already given her a good part of his fortune, and he must
wish to have a share in the property which he has bought back."
"Somebody else will outbid him," said the other; "for now that Madeleine
has plundered him, she will be on the lookout for a richer suitor, and
will be sure to find one. She must take a husband to manage her
property, but while she is trying to find him, she keeps this great
simpleton with her, who serves her for nothing, and amuses her
solitude."
"If she is going along at that pace," said Mariette, much vexed, "I am
in a most disreputable house; in which I run too many dangers! Do you
consider, my dear Sévère, that I am very ill-lodged, and that people
will talk against me? Indeed, I cannot stay where I am; I must leave.
Oh! yes, these pious women criticize everybody else, because they
themselves are shameless only in God's sight! I should like to hear her
say anything against you and me now! Very well! I am going to say
good-by to her, and I am coming to live with you; if she is angry, I
shall answer her; if she tries to bring me back by force, to live with
her, I shall go to law; and I shall let people know what she is--do you
hear?"
"A better remedy for you, Mariette, is to get married as soon as
possible. She will not refuse her consent, because I am sure she is
anxious to rid herself of you. You stand in the way of her relations
with the handsome waif. You must not delay, cannot you understand, for
people will say that he belongs to both of you, and then nobody will
marry you. Go and get married, then, and take the man I advise."
"Agreed," said Mariette, breaking her shepherd's crook violently,
against the old apple-tree. "I give you my word. Go and tell him,
Sévère; let him come to my house this evening, to ask for my hand, and
let our banns be published next Sunday."
[Illustration]