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Updated: May 16, 2025
He had something to live for now. He, however, would not quit his farm. "Why don't you come and live here?" he said to Frank one evening as they sat near a blazing fire in the parlour of "Les Marches." The idea struck Frank as being quite practicable. He was already prevented, from want of room, to extend his business at the Rohais.
Frank's property at the Rohais was let. The farm at "Les Marches" underwent a complete transformation. For fully three months, there was such a rubbing and scrubbing, painting and papering, that everything was turned completely topsy-turvy. Order was at last evoked, the furniture from the Rohais was brought in and the farm-house was made a model of snugness and comfort within.
Rougeant a bottle of medicine for which the latter grudgingly paid three francs, and told the farmer to come and see him again in a few days. As Mr. Rougeant was descending the Rohais, his old horse trotting slowly and joggedly, an unwelcome thought flashed across his mind. "I must be in the vicinity of their house," he said to himself, then he made a gesture with his right hand.
She walked after him, and when he turned round to look at her, she hastily looked the other way. Fearing lest he might recognise her, she retraced her steps and continued her journey homewards down the Rohais, muttering: "A fine place for a rendezvous." Something within her tried to reason: "He is nothing to you, you have no claims upon him."
From this it must not be inferred that he was uneducated. But, he lacked that knowledge of the world which is only acquired by mixing with the world. It was winter, dull winter, when nature rests and green fields are no more. There was not much work to do now in the greenhouses at "the Rohais." Frank was one evening taking a walk towards the Câtel Church.
On a stormy September afternoon, in a room of a two-storeyed cottage, situate at the bottom of the Rohais, a woman lay dying. Her husband knelt beside her bed, holding his wife's hand. The stillness that prevailed was only disturbed by an occasional sob from the husband, and the short irregular breathing of the dying woman. The breathing suddenly became more regular.
Huge black clouds were rising from the horizon while an occasional flash of lightning announced the approach of the coming storm. Frank hastened as fast as he could toward the Rohais. But, he had not gone very far before a heavy shower overtook him. After all his pains, the only thing which he at last secured was a thorough drenching. When he came back home, he was down-hearted.
His skin was white and smooth, like those which Frank had seen at the meat market. Not caring to see more, and feeling very cold, he resumed his journey homewards. He was so excited with what he had witnessed, that he did not think so much about his wretched condition as he would otherwise have done, and when he arrived in front of his father's house, at the Rohais, he was almost cheerful.
She slept peacefully that night. On the following day she wrote to Frank and gave the letter to Jacques, asking him to carry it in the evening at the Rohais. The old man smiled at her, and carefully pocketing the piece of silver which she thrust into his hand, he remarked: "I s'pose you don't care for the guv'nor to know anything about this 'ere business."
She was returning from town, when, instead of going straight home by St. Martin's mill, she went up the Grange, took a peep at her former home, then proceeded by the Rocquettes down the Rohais. Why; the lady readers will easily guess. She espied Frank, just as he was turning down Foulon Vale. He was so intent on his mission that he did not notice her.
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