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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.
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.
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!
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.
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!
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!
"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.
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.
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.
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.
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