"I told him," he said, slowly and reluctantly, "that it was a
queer thing you should have picked up your niece in the
street, and that I didn't believe she was your niece at all;
and no more I do, Jeanne-Marie," he added, gaining courage as
he spoke.
"Ah! you told him that?" said the woman. "Well, look you,
Jacques, if I find you saying any such thing again, this is
the very last time you cross my door-step, and that account of
yours will have to be paid in full next week. You understand?"
"Oh! yes, I understand well enough," he answered sulkily; "but
if I hold my tongue the neighbours will talk; I am not the
only person who saw you come through the street, I will answer
for it."
"Who said I came through the village at all? And what does it
matter to you what the neighbours say?" retorted Jeanne-Marie,
"attend to what I say--that is enough for you, Jacques--and if
you do hear anyone say anything about the child upstairs, tell
them it is my niece come on a visit, and not a word more;
otherwise you understand----"
"Oh! yes, I understand," he repeated grumbling, "but what do I
care? Yours is not the only wine to be had in Le Trooz----"
"Bah!" was Jeanne-Marie's only answer, as she left the room.
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