doubt his past life would not
bear inspection; and she was the Notary's wife, and had said to people
in the village that she would find out the man's history from himself.

"That is one good reason why I should not go to confession," he
replied casually, and turned to a table where he had been cutting a
waistcoat--for the first time in his life.

"Do you think I'm going to stand your impertinence? Do you know who I
am?"

Charley calmly put up his monocle. He looked at the foolish little woman
with so cruel a flash of the eye that she shrank back.

"I should know you anywhere," he said.

"Come, Stephan," she said nervously to her boy, and pulled him towards
the door.

On the instant Charley's feeling changed. Was he then going to carry the
old life into the new, and rebuke a silly garish woman whose faults
were generic more than personal? He hurried forward to the door and
courteously opened it for her.

"Permit me, Madame," he said.

She saw that there was nothing ironical in this politeness. She had a
sudden apprehension of an unusual quality called "the genteel," for no
storekeeper in Chaudiere ever opened or shut a shop-door for anybody.
She smiled a vacuous smile; she played "the lady" terribly, as, with a
curious conception of dignity, she held her body stiff as a ramrod, and
with a prim merci sailed into the street.

This gorgeous exit changed her opinion of the man she had been unable to
catechise. Undoubtedly he had snubbed her--that was the word she used
in her mind--but his last act had enabled her, in the sight of several
habitants and even of Madame Dugal, "to put on airs," as the charming
Madame Dugal said afterwards.

Thinking it better to give the impression that she had had a successful
interview, she shook her head mysteriously when asked about M'sieu',
and murmured, "He is quite the gentleman!" which she thought a socially
distinguished remark.

When she had gone, Charley turned to old Louis.

"I don't want to turn your customers away," he said quietly, "but there
it is! I don't need to answer questions as a part of the business, do
I?"

There was a sour grin on the face of old Trudel. He grunted some
inaudible answer, then, after a pause, added: "I'd have been hung for
murder, if she'd answered the question I asked her once as I wanted her
to."

He opened and shut his shears with a sardonic gesture.

Charley smiled, and went to the window. For a minute he stood watching
Madame Dau