sful technical claims. But these old personal relics,
of no monetary value--you should waive your avaricious and indelicate
claim to them." He added the last words with a malicious smile, for the
hardening look in Racine's face told him his request was hopeless, and
he could not resist the temptation to put the matter with cutting force.
Racine rose to the bait with a jump.

"Not one single thing--not one single solitary thing--!"

"The sentiment is strong if the grammar is bad," interrupted Fournel,
meaning to wound wherever he found an opportunity, for the Seigneur's
deformity excited in him no pity; it rather incensed him against the
man, as an affront to decency and to his own just claims to the honours
the Frenchman enjoyed. It was a petty resentment, but George Fournel
had set his heart upon playing the grand-seigneur over the Frenchmen of
Pontiac, and of ultimately leaving his fortune to the parish, if they
all fell down and worshipped him and his "golden calf."

"The grammar is suitable to the case," retorted the Seigneur, his voice
rising. "Everything is mine by law, and everything I will keep. If you
think different, produce a will--produce a will!"

Truth was, Louis Racine would rather have parted with the Seigneury
itself than with these relics asked for. They were reminiscent of the
time when France and her golden-lilies brooded over his land, of the
days when Louis Quatorze was king. He cherished everything that had
association with the days of the old regime, as a miner hugs his gold,
or a woman her jewels. The request to give them up to this unsympathetic
Englishman, who valued them because they had belonged to his friend the
late Seigneur, only exasperated him.

"I am ready to pay the highest possible price for them, as I have said,"
urged the Englishman, realising as he spoke that it was futile to urge
the sale upon that basis.

"Money cannot buy the things that Frenchmen love. We are not a race of
hucksters," retorted the Seigneur.

"That accounts for your envious dispositions then. You can't buy what
you want--you love such curious things, I assume. So you play the dog
in the manger, and won't let other decent folk buy what they want." He
wilfully distorted the other's meaning, and was delighted to see the
Seigneur's fingers twitch with fury. "But since you can't buy the things
you love--and you seem to think you should--how do you get them? Do you
come by them honestly? or do you work miracle