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Updated: May 1, 2025
What a foolish Ellenor to be jealous of her. She's quite different from you, can't you see that she doesn't set a man's blood on fire like you do, witch?" "That's all very well, Monsieur, but you told father to the veille that I would make a good servant and he thought perhaps you would wish to engage me for when you marry Blaisette, and I saw you with her on the jonquière!"
Old Bourriette's restored eyesight, little Bouhohort's resuscitation in the icy water, the deaf recovering their hearing, the lame suddenly enabled to walk, and so many other cases, Blaise Maumus, Bernade Soubies,* Auguste Bordes, Blaisette Soupenne, Benoite Cazeaux, in turn cured of the most dreadful ailments, became the subject of endless conversations, and fanned the illusions of all those who suffered either in their hearts or their flesh.
"Means!" echoed the fisherman, "of course it means only one thing, that there will soon be a wedding, that the bride will be Blaisette Simon and the bridegroom will be Dominic Le Mierre. But why do you ask me? You said you knew yourself what it meant when you saw the chest in the cart!" "Bah, don't be so stupid and tease me like that! There might be some mistake.
She could not bear it. Once more she rushed from Colomberie Farm in bitter despair and unreasoning grief. It was Spring. Dominic Le Mierre still played a double game and there was no talk of an engagement between Blaisette and himself.
"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear, and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!" "Does he beat her?" "So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre." "It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin, why didn't God let me make me, love you instead?"
When Blaisette came, in the glory of a new gown and a pink sunbonnet, it seemed to Ellenor that life was harder than she could bear, for she was shut out from the Grand Plough. Her father had not been asked to help, he was too much beneath the rank of Le Mierre; therefore no excuse could be framed to admit her into the enchanted field.
Indeed, one outspoken girl of Torteval parish said she would rather be beaten by Le Mierre than be kissed by a man all gentleness and kindness. In a few minutes, Blaisette had left the story-tellers and joined Dominic on the jonquière.
She had not the faintest idea how it was she had risen to go to him, but his welcome was of the most delightful, his voice was tender and deep, his eye spoke eloquently of her beauty. Blaisette had never known him in such a compelling mood. Her foolish, weak little head was turned; his gross flattery was nectar to her greedy vanity. He was generally so taciturn, so cold, so aloof.
The Blessed Angels and Saints know how it would discourage her to come back to see you as bad as ever, and it's my belief, worse!" The tragic death of Blaisette had almost canonized her: and she, who had been in life, a pretty weak doll, was enshrined in all hearts as a martyr to her husband's brutality. So often does death enrich and enlarge our limited outlook.
It was a lovely morning when Dominic stood before the altar in the old church of Saint Pierre du Bois and vowed to love and cherish fair Blaisette, a picture of sweet gentleness, and pretty coquetry in her fair white bridal gown. But the sun was black and the sky was lead to Ellenor, as she watched the bride and bridegroom walk down the aisle together, man and wife, arm in arm.
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