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"That must have frightened you well, Pat. I suppose you threw away your pipe at once." "But no, m'sieu'; this time I continue to smoke, for now it is Mees Meelair who comes near the pipe voluntarily, and it is not my offence. And I remember, while she is talking, the old bonhomme Michaud St. Gerome.
The potato it is not filthy. And the onion? It has a strong smell; but the demoiselle Meelair she ate much of the onion when we were not at the Island House, but in the camp. "And the smell of the tobacco this is an affair of the taste. For me, I love it much; it is like a spice.
For the cat it is quick yes; but for the man it is long; and I am still young only thirty-one. "But the third day, m'sieu' the third day was the worst. It was a day of sadness, a day of the bad chance. The demoiselle Meelair was not content but that we should leap the Rapide des Cedres in canoe. It was rough, rough all feather-white, and the big rock at the corner boiling like a kettle.
"It was the Ma'm'selle Meelair, that young lady, not very young, but active like the youngest, the one that I conducted down the Grande Decharge to Chicoutimi last year, after you had gone away. She said that she knew m'sieu' intimately. No doubt you have a good remembrance of her?" I admitted an acquaintance with the lady.
But it was not Mees Meelair who said that no, she would not understand that thought." Patrick paused for a moment, and rubbed his chin reflectively. Then he continued: "And perhaps it seems strange to you also, m'sieu', that a poor man should be so hungry for children. It is not so everywhere: not in America, I hear. But it is so with us in Canada.
But it is the ignorant who have the most of boldness. The demoiselle Meelair she was not solid in the canoe. She made a jump and a loud scream. I did my possible, but the sea was too high. We took in of the water about five buckets. We were very wet. After that we make the camp; and while I sit by the fire to dry my clothes I smoke for comfort. "Mees Meelair she comes to me once more.
But I thought that what the demoiselle Meelair has said was very strange, and not true exactly; for I have often seen the tobacco grow, and it springs up out of the ground like the wheat or the beans, and it has beautiful leaves, broad and green, with sometimes a red flower at the top. Does the good God cause the filthy weeds to grow like that? Are they not all clean that He has made?
Mees Meelair comes to me, and says: 'Patrique, my man, do you comprehend that the tobacco is a poison? You are committing the murder of yourself. Then she tells me many things about the nicoline, I think she calls him; how he goes into the blood and into the bones and into the hair, and how quickly he will kill the cat. And she says, very strong, 'The men who smoke the tobacco shall die!"
Three hundred yes, with the interest, more than three hundred in ten years! Two thousand piastres in the life of the man! But she comprehends well the arithmetic, that demoiselle Meelair; it was enormous! The big farmer Tremblay has not more money at the bank than that. Then she asks me if I have been at Quebec? No. If I would love to go? Of course, yes.
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