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Her consent was not even asked, but at the time she consoled herself with the conviction, however, that the good fortune that had fallen to the lot of the baby she had saved, was for the best. The uncle was rich that in itself appealed strongly to her peasant mind. That, and her secret knowledge of Garron's fortune, for she had discovered and counted it herself and, motherlike, told the boy.
Garron's money was still in her breast. At the first glimmer of dawn the next morning, the short, solitary figure of a man prowled the beach. He was hatless and insane with rage. In one hand he gripped an empty sock.
She ran her arm into the hole in the wall, lifted the heavy plank and drew out a knitted sock tied with a stout string. From the toe she drew out Garron's fortune. "He shall have it the gosse " she said, "and the rest is as much mine as it is his." She thrust the package in her breast. Half an hour later Julie stood, scarcely breathing, her ear to the locked door of his gabion.
Garron and I hailed "bonjour" to each other through the mist at dawn one morning, as I chanced to pass by his abode, a wary flight of vignon having led me a fruitless chase after them across the great marsh. At a distance through the rifts of mist I mistook this isolated hut of Garron's for a gabion.
It seems that the miser, Garron Garron's boy Garron's woman, Julie, and another woman who nobody seems to know much about, are mixed up in the affair. Garron's history I have known for months my good friend the curé confided to me much concerning the unsavory career of this vagabond of a miser, whose hut is on the "Great Marsh," back of Pont du Sable.
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