For a moment the man was irresolute. But the child seemed to have a
foresight of the parental resentment, for it had hardly spoken when it
darted backward and scampered off, just in time to elude a blow from the
jug, which the man sent clattering at its heels. When it was out of
sight, he faced about to the water again, and replaced the pipe between
his teeth with a heavy scowl and a murmur that sounded to Madame Bernier
very like--'I wish the baby'd choke.'

Hortense was a mute spectator of this little drama. When it was over,
she turned around, and retraced her steps twenty yards with her hand to
her head. Then she walked straight back, and addressed the man.

'My good man,' she said, in a very pleasant voice, 'are you the master
of one of these boats?'

He looked up at her. In a moment the pipe was out of his mouth, and a
broad grin in its place. He rose, with his hand to his cap.

'I am, madame, at your service.'

'Will you take me to the other side?'

'You don't need a boat; the bridge is closed,' said one of his comrades
at the foot of the steps, looking that way.

'I know it,' said Madame Bernier; 'but I wish to go to the cemetery, and
a boat will save me half a mile walking.'

'The cemetery is shut at this hour.'

'_Allons_, leave madame alone,' said the man first spoken to. 'This way,
my lady.'

Hortense seated herself in the stern of the boat. The man took the
sculls.

'Straight across? ' he asked.

Hortense looked around her. 'It's a fine evening,' said she; 'suppose
you row me out to the lighthouse, and leave me at the point nearest the
cemetery on our way back.'

'Very well,' rejoined the boatman; 'fifteen sous,' and began to pull
lustily.

'_Allez_, I'll pay you well,' said Madame.

'Fifteen sous is the fare,' insisted the man.

'Give me a pleasant row, and I'll give you a hundred,' said Hortense.

Her companion said nothing. He evidently wished to appear not to have
heard her remark. Silence was probably the most dignified manner of
receiving a promise too munificent to be anything but a jest.

For some time this silence was maintained, broken only by the trickling
of the oars and the sounds from the neighboring shores and vessels.
Madame Bernier was plunged in a sidelong scrutiny of her ferryman's
countenance. He was a man of about thirty-five. His face was dogged,
brutal, and sullen. These indications were perhaps exaggerated by the
dull monotony of his exercise. The eyes lacke