"Yes, monsieur."
Bastien, almost choked with anger and astonishment, at first could do nothing but stammer as he looked furiously at his wife:
"You—have—dared—what! You—"
Then stamping his foot with rage, he made a step toward his wife, shaking his great fists with such a threatening air, that the bailiff jumped before him, and cried: "Come, Jacques, what in the devil are you doing? You will not die of it, old fellow; it is only a present of about two thousand francs that your wife has given to the sufferers."
"And you think I shall let it go like that?" replied Jacques, trying to restrain himself. "You must be a fool if you thought you could hide it. This destruction of my firs was plain enough before my eyes as I passed. You forgot that, eh?"
"If you had been here, monsieur," answered Marie, softly, for fear of irritating Bastien still more, "like me, you would have been a witness of this terrible disaster and the evils it caused, and you would have done the same, I do not doubt."
"I, by thunder, when I myself have a part of my land ruined with sand."
"But, monsieur, there is enough land and wood left you, while these poor people whom we helped were without bread and shelter."
"Ah, indeed; then it is my business to give bread and shelter to those who have not got it!" cried Bastien, exasperated; "upon my word of honour, it is making a tool of me. Do you hear her, Bridou?"
"You know very well, old fellow, that ladies understand nothing about business, and they had better not meddle with it at all, ha, ha, ha! especially in cutting wood," replied the bailiff with a mellifluous giggle.