And, indeed, Joseph the carter did appear to have but little thought for
anything except the work in hand. For that matter, neither, apparently,
did Gaspard. After the first few brief civilities and the inevitable
jests about the chain, their attention was absorbed at once by the
horses. There were four of these--Percherons, huge monsters with shaggy
fetlocks and massive feet; yet Joseph and Gaspard went about lifting
these colossal hoofs, and considering them as tenderly as if the two had
been young mothers concerned with the feet of babes.
At last Susette let out a little cry, and both men turned to look at
her.
"I faint," she said weakly.
And Gaspard sprang over and caught her in his arms. He was filled with
pity. He was all gentleness.
"Are you sick?" he asked.
"It was the odor of the horses," Susette replied in her small voice.
Joseph the carter seemed to take this as some aspersion on himself.
"Those horses don't smell," he asserted stoutly.
But Gaspard signaled him to hold his place. "You'll be all right in a
second or so," he told his wife. He spoke gently; although, as a matter
of fact, he himself could find nothing about those magnificent animals
to offend the most delicate sensibility. "You'll be all right. You can
come into the forge and sit down while I shoe the big gray."
"That will be worse than ever," wailed Susette.
Joseph the carter was an outspoken man, gruff and honest.
"And there's a woman for you," he said, "to be not only wed but welded
to a smith! _Nom d'un tonnerre!_ Say, then, Gaspard, I'm in a hurry.
Shall we start with the gray?"
"Yes," Gaspard answered softly, as he continued to support Susette.
"No, no, no!" cried Susette. "Not to-day! I'm too sick."
"_Mais, cherie_," Gaspard began.
"You love your work better than you do me," sobbed Susette.
"_Nom d'un pourceau!_" droned Joseph.
"But this work is important," Gaspard argued desperately. "The gray has
not only cast a shoe, but the shoes on the others are loose. They've got
to be attended to. It's work that will bring me in a whole _ecu_."
"I don't care," said Susette. "I can't stand the smell of those horses,
and I could never, never bear the smell of the hot iron on their hoofs."
"But I'm a smith," argued Gaspard.
It was his ultimate appeal.
"I told you that you loved your work more than you did me," whimpered
Susette, beginning to cry. "'_I'm a smith; I'm a smith_'--that's all
you've talked about since you got me in your power."
Joseph the carter went away. He did so shaking his head, followed by his
shining Percherons, which were as majestic as elephants, but as gentle
as sheep. There was a tugging at Gaspard's heart as he saw them go.
Such horses! And no one could shoe a horse as could he. He looked down
at Susette's bowed head as she lay there cuddled in his arms. That
despairing cry was again swelling in his chest: "But I'm a smith." He
silenced it. He stroked the girl's head.
As he did so, he was mindful as never before of the clink and jangle of
the chain.