"Very good. You are a wicked son. I shall give your brother and sister their shares, and shall let them farm yours; and when I die, I shall arrange for them to keep it. You shall have nothing. Be off with you!"
Buteau did not flinch from his rigid attitude. Then Rose, in her turn, tried to soothe him.
"Why, you are just as much cared for as the others, silly! You're only quarrelling with your bread and butter. Accept!"
"No!" And then off he went, going up to bed.
Outside, Lise and Françoise, aghast at the scene, walked a few steps in silence. They had again taken one another's waist, and their figures mingled, looking quite black against the snow which glimmered through the night. Jean, who followed them, also in silence, presently heard them crying. He then tried to cheer them up.
"Come, come, he'll think better of it; he'll say yes to-morrow."
"Ah, you don't know him!" cried Lise. "He'd be cut to pieces sooner than give way. No, no, it's all over!"
Then, despairingly, she added:
"What shall I do with his child?"