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"Suppose I did foreclose; you couldn't put the land in the marriage contract until it was mine." The notary shrugged his shoulder ironically, and dropped his chin in his hand as he furtively eyed the two men. Farcinelle was ready for the emergency. He turned to Shangois. "I've got everything ready for the foreclosure," said he. "Couldn't it be done to-night, Shangois?" "Hardly to-night.
Also the knapsack and black bag he carried under his arms contained more secrets than most people wished to tempt or challenge forth. Few cared to anger the little man, whose father and grandfather had been notaries here before him. Like others in the settlement, Shangois was the last of his race.
I'll never lie to her; and I'll do something else something else. I'll tell her " He reached out, picked a wild rose from the vine upon the wall, and fastened it in his button-hole, with a defiant sort of smile, as there came a tap to his door. "Come in," he said. The door opened, and in stepped Shangois, the notary.
There was, however, a huge chest against the wall near the window, and Shangois sat down on this, with his legs hunched up to his chin, looking at Ferrol with steady, inquisitive eyes. Ferrol laughed outright. A grotesque thought occurred to him.
"And a little black notary take her from you," said Shangois, dryly, and with a touch of malice also. "You, yes, you lawyer dev', you take her from me! You say to her it is wicked. You tell her how her father will weep and her mother's heart will break. You tell her how she will be ashame', and a curse will fall on her. Then she begin to cry, for she is afraid. Ah, where is de wrong?
"There's a new jug of medicine or cordial come this morning from Shangois, the notary," said Lavilette. "I just happened to think of it. What he does counts. He knows a lot." Ferrol's eyes showed interest at once. "I'll try it. I'll try it. The stuff Gatineau the miller sent doesn't do any good now." "Shangois is here he's downstairs if you want to see him." Ferrol nodded. He was tired of talking.
When a man loves a woman with the true love, he will try to do good for her sake. Go back to that crazy New York it is the place for you. Ma'm'selle Christine is not for you." "Who is she for, m'sieu' le dev'?" "Perhaps for the English Irishman," answered Shangois, in a low suggestive tone, as he dropped a little brandy in his tea with light fingers. "Ah, sacre! we shall see.
Shangois, with his dreams of malice and fighting, and the secrets of a half-dozen parishes strapped to his back, had dropped out of Bonaventure, as a stone crumbles from a bank into a stream, and many waters pass over it, and no one inquires whither it has gone, and no one mourns for it. ON Sunday morning Ferrol lay resting on a sofa in a little room off the saloon.
"I would see what happened to it; and afterwards I would see that a girl of Bonaventure did not marry a Protestant, and a thief." Ferrol rose from his chair, coughing a little. Walking over to Shangois, he caught him by both ears and shook the shaggy head back and forth.
As Shangois sang, Castine's brow knotted and twitched and his hand clinched on his pipe with a sudden ferocity. "Name of a black cat, what do you sing that song for, notary?" he broke out peevishly. "Nose of a little god, are you making fun of me?" Shangois handed him some tea.
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