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There it was in the will of Monsieur de la Riviere, duly signed and attested. Madelinette's heart stood still. Louis was no longer indeed, never had been Seigneur of Pontiac, and they had no right there, had never had any right there. They must leave this place which was to Louis the fetich of his soul, the small compensation fate had made him for the trouble nature had cynically laid upon him.
All day and every day Madelinette's mind kept fastening itself upon one theme, kept turning to one spot. In her dreams she saw the hanging lamp, the moving panel, the little cupboard, the fatal paper. Waking and restlessly busy, she sometimes forgot it for a moment, but remembrance would come back with painful force, and her will must govern her hurt spirit into quiet resolution.
He came forward and held out his hand to Madelinette. "Madame, I shall remember your kindness, and I appreciate the simple honours done me here. Your arrival at the moment of my visit is a happy circumstance." There was a meaning in his eye not in his voice which went straight to Madelinette's understanding.
"You may trust me." "I do trust you, Monsieur," Madelinette answered quietly. "I pray that you may be right, and that " "It will all come out right," he firmly insisted. "Will you ask for Madame Marie?" she said. Then with a smile: "We will go happier than we came." As she and Madame Marie passed from the house, Fournel shook Madelinette's hand warmly, and said: "'All's well that ends well."
They were full of veneration for past traditions, but were not at variance with a proper loyalty to the flag under which they lived, and if the English soldiery met the speech with genial appreciation the day might end in a blessing and surely blessings were overdue in Madelinette's life in Pontiac.
"Tut, tut, old leather-belly," said Gingras the shoemaker, whose liquor had mounted high, "you'll not need to work now. Madelinette's got double fortune. She gets thousands for a song, and she's lady of the Manor here. What's too good for you, tell me that, my forgeron?" "Not working between meals that's too good for me, Gingras.
He saw no reason to quarrel with his face. Was it possible that the deformity did not matter after all? He felt Madelinette's hand on his arm. He turned and clasped her to his breast. He did not notice that she kept her hands under her chin as he drew her to him, that she did not, as had been her wont, put them on his shoulders.
An honour from the young English Queen that would mate with Madelinette's fame. After all, it was only his due. He suddenly found it hard to be consistent. His mind was in a whirl.
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