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Updated: June 29, 2025
"Is that your business to go round the parish asking conundrums?" he said coolly. "I can't guess the answer to that one, can you?" Shangois hated cowards, and liked clever people people who could answer him after his own fashion. Nearly everybody was afraid of his tongue and of him. He knew too much; which was a crime. "I can find out," he replied, showing his teeth a little.
"Suppose I did foreclose; you couldn't put the land in the marriage contract until it was mine." The notary shrugged his shoulder ironically, and dropped his chin in his hand as he furtively eyed the two men. Farcinelle was ready for the emergency. He turned to Shangois. "I've got everything ready for the foreclosure," said he. "Couldn't it be done to-night, Shangois?" "Hardly to-night.
The animal was clean of limb, straight and shapely of body, with a leg like a lady's, and heart and wind to travel till she dropped. This mare the little black notary, Shangois, had cheerfully stolen from beside the tent of the English general.
Shangois sat back in his chair, the fingers of both hands drumming on the table before him, his head twisted a little to one side. His little reflective eyes sparkled with malicious interest, and his little voice said, as though he were speaking to himself: "Excuse, but the land belongs to the young Vanne Castine eh?" "That's it," exclaimed Farcinelle.
Shangois, the notary, met his eye as they dashed on. A new sensation not a change in the elation he felt, but an instant's interruption came to him. He asked who Shangois was, and Nicolas told him. "A notary, eh?" he remarked gaily. "Well, why does he disguise himself? He looks like a ragpicker, and has the eye of Solomon and the devil in one.
"Is that your business to go round the parish asking conundrums?" he said coolly. "I can't guess the answer to that one, can you?" Shangois hated cowards, and liked clever people people who could answer him after his own fashion. Nearly everybody was afraid of his tongue and of him. He knew too much; which was a crime. "I can find out," he replied, showing his teeth a little.
What is there to Bon'venture? Ha! you ask that? I know and you know, M'sieu' Shangois. There is nosing like Bon'venture in all de worl'. "What is it you would have? Do you want nice warm house in winter, plenty pork, molass', patat, leetla drop whiskey 'hind de door in de morning? Ha! you come to Bon'venture. Where else you fin' it? You want people say: 'How you do, Vanne Castine how you are?
Also the knapsack and black bag he carried under his arms contained more secrets than most people wished to tempt or challenge forth. Few cared to anger the little man, whose father and grandfather had been notaries here before him. Like others in the settlement, Shangois was the last of his race.
No grown-up person of the village meddled with anything, no matter how curious; for this consistent, if unspoken, trust displayed by Shangois appealed to their better instincts. Besides, they, like the children, had a wholesome fear of the disreputable, shrunken, dishevelled little notary, with the bead-like eyes, yellow stockings, hooked nose and palsied left hand.
"I would see what happened to it; and afterwards I would see that a girl of Bonaventure did not marry a Protestant, and a thief." Ferrol rose from his chair, coughing a little. Walking over to Shangois, he caught him by both ears and shook the shaggy head back and forth.
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