“They were doubting the purity of Madame Catherine,” said Bruno.
“The gamekeeper’s wife?” queried “the Bear,” with some agitation.
“Yes, Madame Barrau, if you please.”
“Well, well,” said “the Bear,” with an assumed nonchalance. Then after a slight pause he added: “It is none of my affair. But if again I catch you attacking a man like little Bruno, Andoche, I will dash you to pieces.”
The blacksmith, remembering his last lesson, hung his head and said nothing.
“Bruno, my lad, come with me,” said “the Bear,” as he turned to go. But Bruno did not wish to retreat under another’s protection like a coward.
“No, thank you,” he said: “I will remain.”
“So be it,” returned “the Bear.” “Man is a free agent.”
And the shaggy-haired, strongly built man shambled away without asking if Andoche intended to renew the fight, which was far from Andoche’s wish. He had received a lesson. The women, however, continued to score and revile Catherine. Said one old gossip: “Well, that fool of a Savin has no more than he deserves. When a man marries he ought not to choose a girl who is neither a peasant nor a lady.”
“Come, come!” said Bruno, irritably.