"I declare," he said, when the sneezing had subsided, "I never did see no sech snuff."
"Vare good," resumed M. Perritaut. "I weel promees in the contract to geeve you one ten tousant tollars--_deux mille_--two tousant avery yare for fife yare. _Très bien_. My daughtare is edu_cate_; she stoody fife, seex yare in te convent at Montreal. Zhe play on piano evare so many tune. _Bien_. You come Monday. We weel zee. Adieu. I mean good-by, Mistare Sonee."
"Adoo, musheer," said Dave, taking his hat and leaving. He boasted afterwards that he had spoke to the ole man in French when he was comin' away. Thought it mout kinder tickle him, you know. And he said he didn' mind a brown complexion a bit. Fer his part, seemed to him 'twas kinder purty fer variety. Wouldn' want all women reddish, but fer variety 'twas sorter nice, you know. He always did like sompin' odd.
And he now threw all his energy into the advocacy of Perritaut. It was the natural location of a county-seat. Metropolisville never would be nawthin'.
Monday morning found him at Perritaut's house, ready to sell himself in marriage. As for the girl, she, poor brown lamb--or wolf, as the case may be--was ready, with true Indian stolidity, to be disposed of as her father chose. The parties who were interested in the town of Perritaut had got wind of Dave's proposition; and as they saw how important his influence might be in the coming election, they took pains to satisfy Monsieur Perritaut that Mr. Sawney was a very proper person to marry his tawny daughter and pocket his yellow gold-pieces. The lawyer was just finishing the necessary documents when Dave entered.
"_Eh bien_! How you do, Mistare Sonee? Is eet dat you weel have a peench of snuff?" For the Frenchman had quite forgotten Dave's mishap in snuff-taking, and offered the snuff out of habitual complaisance.
"No, musheer," said Dave, "I can't use no snuff of late yeers. 'Fection of the nose; makes me sneeze dreffle."
"Oh! _Eh blen! C'est comme il faut_. I mean dat is all right, vare good, mistare. Now, den, Monsieur _l'Avocat_, I mean ze lawyare, he is ready to read ze contract."
"Cawntrack? Oh! yes, that's right. We Americans marry without a cawntrack, you see. But I like cawntracks myself. It's my business, cawntracking is, you know. Fire away whenever you're ready, mister." This last to the lawyer, who was waiting to read.