sing himself with cheerful words to the dame that owned the
merchandise.

"I suppose you think it's a pity Jean Jacques can't get a divorce,"
said Mere Langlois, rather spitefully to Virginie, for she had her
sex's aversion to widows who had had their share of mankind, and were
afterwards free to have someone else's share as well. But suddenly
repenting, for Virginie was a hard-working widow who had behaved
very well for an outsider--having come from Chalfonte beyond the Beau
Chevalshe added: "But if he was a Protestant and could get a divorce,
and you did marry him, you'd make him have more sense than he's got;
for you've a quiet sensible way, and you've worked hard since Palass
Poucette died."

"Where doesn't he show sense, that M'sieu' Jean Jacques?" the younger
woman asked.

"Where? Why, with his girl--with Ma'm'selle." "Everybody I ever heard
speaks well of Ma'm'selle Zoe," returned the other warmly, for she had
a very generous mind and a truthful, sentimental heart. Mere Langlois
sniffed, and put her hands on her hips, for she had a daughter of her
own; also she was a relation of Jean Jacques, and therefore resented in
one way the difference in their social position, while yet she plumed
herself on being kin.

"Then you'll learn something now you never knew before," she said.
"She's been carrying on--there's no other word for it--with an actor
fellow--"

"Yes, yes, I did hear about him--a Protestant and an Englishman."

"Well, then, why do you pretend you don't know--only to hear me talk, is
it? Take my word, I'd teach cousin Zoe a lesson with all her education
and her two years at the convent. Wasn't it enough that her mother
should spoil everything for Jean Jacques, and make the Manor Cartier
a place to point the finger at, without her bringing disgrace on the
parish too! What happened last night--didn't I hear this morning before
I had my breakfast! Didn't I--"

She then proceeded to describe the scene in which Jean Jacques had
thrown the wrecked guitar of his vanished spouse into the fire. Before
she had finished, however, something occurred which swept them into
another act of the famous history of Jean Jacques Barbille and his
house.

She had arrived at the point where Zoe had cried aloud in pain at her
father's incendiary act, when there was a great stir at the Court House
door which opened on the market-place, and vagrant cheers arose.
These were presently followed by a more disciplined fusillad