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When the tale was ended she gave a sigh of relief. "It might have been worse: I thought it was worse the more fool I. I deserve to have my head cut off." This was Jacintha's only comment at that time. It was Josephine's turn to be amazed. "It could have been worse?" said she. "How? tell me," added she bitterly. "It would be a consolation to me, could I see that."
To reverse the picture, if you stood at the door you looked across forty feet of black, and the little corner seemed on fire, and the fair heads about the candle shone like the St. Cecilias and Madonnas in an antique stained-glass window. At last the door opened, and another candle fired Jacintha's comely peasant face in the doorway.
Then followed a conversation, to detail which might anticipate our story; suffice it to say, that Rose, coming into the room rather suddenly, found her sister weeping on Jacintha's bosom, and Jacintha crying and sobbing over her. She stood and stared in utter amazement. Dr. Aubertin, on his arrival, was agreeably surprised at Madame Raynal's appearance. He inquired after her appetite.
I will go and ask her pardon. What is the matter now?" For Jacintha was cackling very loud, and dismissing with ignominy two beggars, male and female. She was industry personified, and had no sympathy with mendicity. In vain the couple protested, Heaven knows with what truth, that they were not beggars, but mechanics out of work. "March! tramp!" was Jacintha's least word.
Edouard flew to the wheelbarrow, and, reversing it, spun a lot of billet out. "Ye must not do that," said Dard with all the energy he was capable of in his present condition. "Why, that is Jacintha's wood." "To the devil with Jacintha and her wood too!" cried Edouard, "a man is worth more than a fagot. Come, I shall wheel you home: it is only just across the park."
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