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Updated: May 25, 2025
She took him inside, laid him on her own bed, and when he had slept and sobered, she gave him a cup of tea and escorted him to his home. Ever since, they had been friends. This man's name was Tom Soher. We have seen that an idea had struck him which he intended to carry out. He, too, believed in Mrs. Vidoux's power of bewitching.
The two children were awe-stricken. They sat as still as two mice, breathing only as much as was absolutely necessary. It was Tommy who first broke the silence. He was more accustomed to hear these strange tales than his cousin, and, consequently, got over his fright sooner. "How did the book shriek," questioned the boy. The entrance of Mr. Soher and his spouse disturbed the proceedings.
He was now quite close to his nephew and the latter, aroused by the noise which his uncle had made, raised his head and yawningly drawled out: "You're quite right, uncle." The farmer stood straight in front of Tom Soher, his arms folded, his penetrating eye fixed scrutinizingly on his nephew. He perceived the latter's state; his wrath increased. "What!" he ejaculated; "you are drunk!"
When they were all assembled round the table partaking of their tea, Adèle tried over and over again to lead the conversation into a pleasant channel, but all to no purpose. The inmates of the "Prenoms" had to be taught to converse properly before they could do so. Mrs. Soher began to babble in her ordinary way. Her daughter supported her foolish statements. Adèle made no remark.
Tommy began to cry. She dragged him out of the room and up the stairs. He screamed and kicked, but was finally placed in his cot. Mrs. Soher had hardly stepped into the kitchen, when her son was heard crying. "I am frightened," he bawled; "the fire the witches the book." "Bah!" said his mother, "he'll go to sleep soon." And so he did. Mr.
Soher, who had not yet spoken a word, said something about young people being respectful to their superiors; while Tom laughed at the two women and smiled approvingly at his cousin. Adèle took her departure early and was not asked to remain longer. When she was once more in the open, she felt a great weight lifted from her breast.
Soher regained consciousness, and as her senses returned to her, she cried bitterly: "My poor son, my dear son." At this stage, Mr. Soher came home. He was surprised to find his neighbour seated near the fire in the kitchen. His surprise was changed into anguish, when the neighbour, in a few words, informed him of Tom's sad fate. Mr. Soher was horrified.
Rougeant had once told him that with a single look he could make her tremble, and that she would as soon think of refusing him as of refusing to grow older. Tom Soher smiled when he thought of his uncle's demeanour upon hearing the news which he had to impart. How he was to incite him. He must make his wrath rise to the highest pitch.
I know he can still drink a few glasses of cider, but what do you want? Was not cider made to be drunk? For my part, I prefer a man like him to half-a-dozen of those white-faced teetotalers. They look as if they had just been dug up like a fresh parsnip." "I think Tom Soher would do much better to abstain from alcohol altogether, especially as he has been one of its slaves," remarked Adèle.
"Ah, I see," said she, "he saw my cousin coming home to visit us rather often, and he invented that little piece of news. It was he Tom Soher whom we met just now, and who scrutinized us so." Then Adèle told him all about her father's intentions. She tried to look bright, but Frank saw what she endeavoured to conceal: a painful contraction of the forehead at times.
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