“Perhaps for the English Irishman,” answered Shangois, in a low suggestive tone, as he dropped a little brandy in his tea with light fingers.
“Ah, sacre! we shall see. There is vaurien in her too,” was the half-triumphant reply.
“There is more woman,” retorted Shangois; “much more.”
“We’ll see about that, m’sieu’!” exclaimed Castine, as he turned towards the bear, which was clawing at his chain.
An hour later, a scene quite as important occurred at Lavilette’s great farmhouse.
It was about ten o’clock. Lights were burning in every window. At a table in the dining-room sat Monsieur and Madame Lavilette, the father of Magon Farcinelle, and Shangois, the notary. The marriage contract was before them. They had reached a point of difficulty. Farcinelle was stipulating for five acres of river-land as another item in Sophie’s dot.
The corners tightened around Madame’s mouth. Lavilette scratched his head, so that the hair stood up like flying tassels of corn. The land in question lay next a portion of Farcinelle’s own farm, with a river frontage. On it was a little house and shed, and no better garden-stuff grew in the parish than on this same five acres.
“But I do not own the land,” said Lavilette. “You’ve got a mortgage on it,” answered Farcinelle. “Foreclose it.”
“Suppose I did foreclose; you couldn’t put the land in the marriage contract until it was mine.”
The notary shrugged his shoulder ironically, and dropped his chin in his hand as he furtively eyed the two men. Farcinelle was ready for the emergency. He turned to Shangois.
“I’ve got everything ready for the foreclosure,” said he. “Couldn’t it be done to-night, Shangois?”
“Hardly to-night. You might foreclose, but the property couldn’t be Monsieur Lavilette’s until it is duly sold under the mortgage.”
“Here, I’ll tell you what can be done,” said Farcinelle. “You can put the mortgage in the contract as her dot, and, name of a little man! I’ll foreclose it, I can tell you. Come, now, Lavilette, is it a bargain?” Shangois sat back in his chair, the fingers of both hands drumming on the table before him, his head twisted a little to one side. His little reflective eyes sparkled with malicious interest, and his little voice said, as though he were speaking to himself: