"He is a good workman," was de Maurel's only comment.
"A good workman? Yes," Mathurin admitted, "but he is always ready with his knife. We have had two or three affrays with him. He gave me a nasty cut on the forearm less than a week ago."
"You did not tell me."
"Why should I? The cut will heal all right."
"And I would have had the fellow thrashed like the cur he is," came with a harsh oath from de Maurel. "So no doubt you were wise not to tell me—good old Mathurin," he added, and placed his hand affectionately on the workman's shoulder.
"It would be better to have him sent elsewhere," suggested the overseer.
"No one would have him."
"Let him join the army. He is good fodder for Prussian cannon."
"A mischief-maker in the army is more dangerous than here at home. And if he is a skilled workman, the Emperor hath more need of him just now at La Frontenay than in Poland."
Mathurin was silent for a moment or two, then he muttered between his teeth: