in her wrath: the measure pf her rude mastery.

"Before God! Where did you get the courage to try that?" she marvelled.
"As if I had not trouble enough already with the other stubborn brat
herself. And now you!... Have you altogether forgotten that I betrothed
you myself to my niece--my own dead sister's child--when she came
visiting from the church school at Fonwhary some weeks ago?"

"You said it was so," admitted Bibi-Ri, squirming.

"Good! Then you can wager it was so, my boy.... And at that time did you
or did you not strike a solemn bargain with me?"

He made no denial.

"You wept--sacred pipe! You called every saint to witness your
gratitude. Anything I wanted! Zelie? Of course. You would always be the
defense of that precious infant against the taint and the curse of
Noumea!"

He shrugged.

"You swore by your own hope of salvation to save her--to pluck this pure
flower from the dung-hill and marry her the very hour of your release.
Your bridal trip should carry her away to France.... Are these your
words?"

"I offered to," he retorted. "But Zelie refused even then--you know she
did! And so she has since."

"Fichtre! You and your offers! Tell me--from the day you discovered your
heritage have you ever been back to persuade her?"

He avoided that stern eye.

"There it is, you see!" She gave an eloquent gesture. "As for her--leave
her to me. She is only a stiff-necked little idiot who knows nothing.
You should have made up her mind for her. You! I picked you for that:
and you were willing enough before. But straightway: instead: what did
you do?... Why you began to swell up over notions of your coming
greatness! That is what happened to you. Shrimp! Can't I read your soul?

"Suddenly you found yourself to be a somebody! Ambition grew in you like
a mushroom. Not good enough--Zelie, of New Caledonia! She might handicap
you in your fine career. You beheld a glorious future that had no place
for her. But who opened that prospect? Cre tonnerre! Who sold it you?
Who deciphered the miniature? Who but I?

"And now at last, when the girl falls in deadly peril--as much through
pique as through mere blindness, be sure of it!--when I call you to
redeem your pledge and protect her: you quit! You 'withdraw'! You
decide to use your new airs and graces and pull your feet out of
the wet! Because you prefer the excuse of a coward to that of a
traitor--Monsieur--is that it?"

Her fist hit the table like a sledge.