Jeanne lowered her eyes so as not to meet his glance,
and Rosalie, who had heard all about him, flew into
a rage. “Peasant! Peasant!” she
murmured; and then seizing her son’s hand:
“Give him a good slash with the whip.”
But the young man, just as they were passing the priest,
made the wheel of the wagon, which was going at full
speed, sink into a rut, splashing the abbe with mud
from head to foot.
Rosalie was delighted and turned round to shake her
fist at him, while the priest was wiping off the mud
with his big handkerchief.
All at once Jeanne exclaimed: “We have
forgotten Massacre!” They stopped, and, getting
down, Denis ran to fetch the dog, while Rosalie held
the reins. He presently reappeared, carrying in
his arms the shapeless and crippled animal, which
he placed at the feet of the two women.
* * * *
*
JEANNE IN PARIS
Two hours later the carriage stopped at a little brick
house built in the middle of a lot planted with pear
trees at the side of the high road.
Four trellised arbors covered with honeysuckle and
clematis formed the four corners of the garden, which
was divided into little beds of vegetables separated
by narrow paths bordered with fruit trees.
A very high box hedge enclosed the whole property,
which was separated by a field from the neighboring
farm. There was a blacksmith’s shop about
a hundred feet further along the road. There were
no other houses within three-quarters of a mile.
The house commanded a view of the level district of
Caux, covered with farms surrounded by their four
double rows of tall trees which enclosed the courtyard
planted with apple trees.
As soon as they reached the house, Jeanne wanted to
rest; but Rosalie would not allow her to do so for
fear she would begin to think of the past.
The carpenter from Goderville was there, and they
began at once to place the furniture that had already
arrived while waiting for the last load. This
required a good deal of thought and planning.
At the end of an hour the wagon appeared at the gate
and had to be unloaded in the rain. When night
fell the house was in utter disorder, with things
piled up anyhow. Jeanne, tired out, fell asleep
as soon as she got into bed.
She had no time to mourn for some days, as there was
so much to be done. She even took a certain pleasure
in making her new house look pretty, the thought that
her son would come back there haunting her continually.
The tapestries from her old room were hung in the
dining-room, which also had to serve as a parlor; and
she took special pains with one of the two rooms on
the first floor, which she thought of as “Poulet’s
room.”
She kept the other room herself, Rosalie sleeping
above, next to the loft. The little house, furnished
with care, was very pretty, and Jeanne was happy there
at first, although she seemed to lack something, but
she did not know what.
