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Updated: June 12, 2025
The state of things lasted three years, some say four, but the monks of Saint Benoist have not wormed out the date, which remains obscure, like the reasons for the quarrel between the two friends. Probably the Venetian had the high ambition to reign without any control or dispute, and forgot the services which the Frenchman had rendered him.
He avoided the roads that led past her home, so that he might not even see the trees in the yard, and this obliged him to make a great circuit morning and evening. She was now married to Vallin, the richest farmer in the district. Benoist and he did not speak now, though they had been comrades from childhood. One evening, as Benoist was passing the town hall, he heard that she was enceinte.
He darted inside, crossed the grass patch, pushed open the door, and saw her lying on the floor, her body drawn up, her face livid, her eyes haggard, in the throes of childbirth. He stood there, trembling and paler than she was, and stammered: "Here I am, here I am, Martine!" She replied in gasps: "Oh, do not leave me, do not leave me, Benoist!"
Pierre Benoist, the survivor of the French brig, arrived at Mother McKay's shebeen in good order, with the borrowed blanket draped over his broad shoulders and the borrowed sealing-gun under his arm. All birds of Pierre's variety of feather seemed to arrive naturally at Mother McKay's, sooner or later.
"It is three hundred yards from the Place Ste.-Croix and he must go guarded," the Cure of St.-Benoist continued in the same dull fashion. "He cannot leave many in the house with the woman. If it were attacked in his absence " "He would return, and " Father Pezelay shook his head, his cheek turned a shade paler. Clearly, he saw with his mind's eye more than he expressed.
Of the two Presidents, one, M. Benoist d'Azy, was addressing the Assembly; the other, M. Vitet, pale, but calm and resolute, distributed instructions and orders. M. Benoist d'Azy maintained a decorous countenance, but a certain hesitation in his speech revealed an inner agitation. Divisions, even in the Right, had not disappeared at this critical moment.
He looked at her, not knowing what to say, what to do. She began to cry out again: "Oh, oh, it is killing me. Oh, Benoist!" She writhed frightfully. Benoist was suddenly seized with a frantic longing to help her, to quiet her, to remove her pain.
A rather dry autumn wind blew across the plain, promising a cool evening after the sun had set. Benoist sat down on a ditch, placed his hat on his knees as if he needed to cool off his head, and said aloud in the stillness of the country: "If you want a fine girl, she is a fine girl." He thought of it again at night, in his bed, and in the morning when he awoke.
He darted inside, crossed the grass patch, pushed open the door, and saw her lying on the floor, her body drawn up, her face livid, her eyes haggard, in the throes of childbirth. He stood there, trembling and paler than she was, and stammered: "Here I am, here I am, Martine!" She replied in gasps: "Oh, do not leave me, do not leave me, Benoist!"
Benoist saw only her back; but he knew well the face he loved, without, however, having ever noticed it more closely than he did now. Suddenly he said: "Nom d'un nom, she is a fine girl, all the same, that Martine." He watched her as she walked, admiring her hastily, feeling a desire taking possession of him. He did not long to see her face again, no.
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