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Updated: June 24, 2025
He saw the Seigneur, gloomy and silent, standing apart. He saw the people in scattered groups, looking more homeless than if they had no homes. Some groups were silent; others discussed angrily the question, who was the incendiary that it had been set on fire seemed certain. "I said no good would come of the play-acting," said the Seigneur's groom, and was flung into the ditch by Filion Lacasse.
He shook his ringlets back angrily, and a scarlet spot showed on each straw-coloured cheek. "Twenty dollars is what Lacasse paid our dear Dauphin," said the Cure benignly, "and a very proper charge. Lacasse probably gave Monsieur there quite as much, and Monsieur will give it to the first poor man he meets, or send it to the first sick person of whom he hears."
Rosalie Evanturel saw him, but she has no tongue in her head this morning," added Madame. The Seigneur moved away. "Good-bye to you I am obliged to you, Madame. Good-bye, Lacasse. Come and fiddle to me some night, Cour." He bowed to the obsequious three, and then bent his steps towards the post-office. They seemed about to follow him, but he stopped them with a look.
Before he left the post-office, Filion Lacasse, Maximilian Cour, and Mrs. Flynn had given forth his history, as related by Jo Portugais. The village was agog with excitement. But attention was not centred on himself, for Rosalie's courage had set the parish talking.
The Cure had heard of the incident of the morning when Filion Lacasse accused Charley of stealing the cross. "Rather more than usual, Monsieur." The Cure turned towards the door. "You, Mademoiselle Rosalie, how came you to know?" "I was in the kitchen with Margot, who was not well." The Cure looked at Margot, who tearfully nodded. "I was ill," she said, "and Rosalie was here with me.
She was restless and uneasy during supper, and gave more than one unmeaning response to the remarks of her crippled father, who, drawn up for supper in his wheel- chair, was more than usually inclined to gossip. Damase Evanturel's mind was stirred concerning the loss of the iron cross; the threat made by Filion Lacasse and his companions troubled him.
The Cure had heard of the incident of the morning when Filion Lacasse accused Charley of stealing the cross. "Rather more than usual, Monsieur." The Cure turned towards the door. "You, Mademoiselle Rosalie, how came you to know?" "I was in the kitchen with Margot, who was not well." The Cure looked at Margot, who tearfully nodded. "I was ill," she said, "and Rosalie was here with me.
Presently Charley staggered to his feet, purpose in his face. These people, from the Cure and Seigneur to the most ignorant habitant, were hopeless and inert. The pride of their lives was gone. "Gather the people together," he said to the Notary and Filion Lacasse. Then he turned to the Cure and the Seigneur.
The Seigneur was struck by this and by the strangeness of her look. "Clear the room," he said to Filion Lacasse, who was now a constable of the parish. "Not yet!" said a voice at the doorway. "What is the trouble?" It was the Cure, who had already heard rumours of the scandal, and had come at once to Rosalie. M. Evanturel tried to speak, and could not.
She was restless and uneasy during supper, and gave more than one unmeaning response to the remarks of her crippled father, who, drawn up for supper in his wheel-chair, was more than usually inclined to gossip. Damase Evanturel's mind was stirred concerning the loss of the iron cross; the threat made by Filion Lacasse and his companions troubled him.
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