table for support. Marchette's
eyes widened in alarm, and she put her hands out to him.

Recovered after a moment--and feeling much better now than he had a few
hours ago--he took Marchette's hands in his.

"I can't tell you how much this means to me, Marchette. There were
things in my trunk--sacred things--very important to me. Very precious.
I thank you a thousand times."

Her swollen lips parted in a half smile. She reached into a pocket in
her apron and brought out a large pocket watch gleaming a dull gold.
Then she took out a familiar oval silver case with a velvet ribbon.

"These were your father's, monsieur. I believe he would wish that you
have them."

Auguste opened the case and saw the round lenses for only a moment as
his eyes blurred. He put his hand over his face and held it there until
he no longer felt like weeping. Then he looked at the engraving on the
watch--"Pierre Louis Auguste de Marion, A.D. 1800"--and his eyes filled
up with tears. This, he thought, should go into his medicine bundle with
the other sacred objects.

"Where were Raoul and Greenglove when you took my trunk and things in
the carriage?"

"Before Armand got drunk, Monsieur Raoul made him look through Monsieur
Elysee's room for the paper that says you are to inherit the estate.
Armand found it and gave it to your uncle, and he threw it into the fire
while Armand and Eli Greenglove watched and laughed. Then Monsieur
Raoul, he got into a most furious argument with Eli Greenglove about
Greenglove's daughter. They nearly fight, but I think they are afraid of
each other. They are both great killers. So finally they went down to
town. Monsieur Raoul agreed to bring his woman, Greenglove's daughter,
and the two boys to the chateau."

"Disgraceful!" snorted Reverend Hale. "Publicly living in sin."

"I wonder why he didn't bring them to the funeral?" Nancy said.

Auguste thought he knew why. Clarissa Greenglove had been a pretty,
full-bosomed girl when he first arrived at Victoire. But in the years
during which she had borne two boys to Raoul, she had turned into a
lank-haired, snuff-sniffing slattern. Years ago Raoul had said he was
going to marry Clarissa, but he never had. And Auguste had seen Raoul
bending a hungry look on Nancy throughout the funeral mass this morning.
The thought of Raoul laying even a hand on Nancy angered him. It would
anger Eli Greenglove, too, for a different reason.

Eli Greenglove, it was said, could shoo