“The soul must be fed, Madame,” rejoined the baker, with asperity.
“Where is the tailor now?” said the Seigneur shortly. “At Portugais’s on Vadrome Mountain. They say he looked like a ghost when he went. Rosalie Evanturel saw him, but she has no tongue in her head this morning,” added Madame.
The Seigneur moved away. “Good-bye to you—I am obliged to you, Madame. Good-bye, Lacasse. Come and fiddle to me some night, Cour.”
He bowed to the obsequious three, and then bent his steps towards the post-office. They seemed about to follow him, but he stopped them with a look. The men raised their bonnets-rouges, the woman bowed low, and the Seigneur entered the post-office door.
From the shadows of the office Rosalie had watched the little group before the door of the tailor-shop. She saw the Seigneur coming across the street. Suddenly she flushed deeply, for there came to her mind the song the quack-doctor sang:
“Voila, the day has come
When Rosette leaves her home!
With fear she walks in the sun,
For Raoul is ninety year,
And she not twenty-one.”
As M. Rossignol’s figure darkened the doorway, she pretended to be busy behind the wicket, and not to see him. He was not sure, but he thought it quite possible that she had seen him coming, and he put her embarrassment down to shyness. Naturally the poor child was not given the chance every day to receive an offer of marriage from a seigneur. He had made up his mind that she would be sure to accept him if he asked her a second time.
“Ah, Ma’m’selle Rosalie,” he said gaily, “what have you to say that you should not come before a magistrate at once?”
“Nothing, if Monsieur Rossignol is to be the magistrate,” she replied, with forced lightness.
“Good!” He looked at her quizzically through his gold-handled glass. “I can’t frighten you, I see. Well, you must wait a little; you shall be sworn in postmistress in three days.” His voice lowered, became more serious. “Tell me,” he said, “do you know what is the matter with the gentleman across the way?” Turning, he looked across to the tailor-shop, as though he expected “the gentleman” to appear, and he did not see her turn pale. When his look fell on her again, she was self-controlled.