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Updated: June 22, 2025
The next day, when Ellenor was knitting outside Les Casquets, a messenger arrived from Orvillière. He brought an invitation to Jean Cartier and to his wife and daughter, to attend the wedding of Monsieur Dominic Le Mierre and Mademoiselle Blaisette Simon. She stood up straight and tall to receive the blow. She did not flinch.
Every woman had brought gâche, biscuits and special vraicquing cakes: while the rich farmers had provided a plentiful supply of cider which had been brought down in little barrels swung to the carts. It was a merry time, and Blaisette Le Mierre was looked upon as the queen of the feast. Very few spoke to Ellenor, for she was shunned as a marked character.
"Well, it's a joke, isn't it, the difference between Dominic Le Mierre of a Sunday and Dominic Le Mierre in this place, my clothes all wet with sea-water. And now, tell me, witch, why do you think I'm here, in the Haunted House?" "I couldn't say, I'm sure." He was silent, staring hard into the candid, fearless eyes; then impulsively he cried, "I believe I can trust you!
Perrin Corbet moved quietly, almost stealthily, about amongst the people, evidently intent on finding some particular person. All at once he stopped close to the huge bonfire, and stared, with knitted brows, at Dominic Le Mierre, who swaggered in and out amongst the girls, tapping one on the cheek, chucking another under the chin, and pulling the long curls of a young creature in her teens.
"Wait a bit, wait a bit, till you hears all! It seems, she told me, that she planned she'd do this, there's weeks ago, while Le Mierre was yet to Jersey, and she had heard he was making love to girls there." "But why?" "Well, listen! She's a strange creature, not like others! It's my belief she comes from those fairies that built Les Casquets. You remember Perrin?" "No, tell me."
So who can tell what may happen! Come, I must make her and give her a cup of tea. She told me she hadn't eaten or drank all day." It was a wild wet night in March. Dominic Le Mierre had just finished supper, and he sat by the fire in the kitchen of Orvillière; he was in a particularly good mood, owing to the excellence of the tobacco he was smoking.
Yet there was prosperity to be read in the large open barn stacked high with corn and hay, in the many cows that fed in the meadow below the hill, and in the horses that stamped impatiently in the stable. The master of Orvillière Farm was Dominic Le Mierre, a bachelor, a hard worker, and a more than respectable member of the parish of Saint Pierre du Bois.
Then I can look after her! Don't wait up for me, mother." "Very well. But, tell me, Jean. Will Le Mierre be there? Has she met him since his return from Jersey?" "He will be there, for certain," broke in Perrin. "And, for certain, she has not see him yet. She told me so herself. Adi, then, toute la compagnie." He swung along and was soon out of sight.
But the special field in question lay bare to the sky, surrounded by low hedges, and of a rich red brown colour. Six bullocks and sixteen horses drew the large plough, and Dominic Le Mierre was captain of the team. He looked his very best, for the work drew out the strength and will of the man.
With brusque and evidently totally unpremeditated passion he kissed her red lips. "There! didn't I say you are a witch! I could laugh at myself for this I, Le Mierre, of one of the oldest families of St. Pierre du Bois to be kissing a girl like you, a girl who carries fish to market, tramp, tramp, all the way in the rain or in the sun!
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