“We ain’t through with it yet,” said the death’s-head groom.
“It is a pious and holy mission,” said Madame Dauphin. “Even that Jo Portugais worked night and day till he went away to Montreal, and he always goes to Mass now. He’s to take Pontius Pilate when he comes back. Then look at Virginie Morrissette, that put her brother’s eyes out quarrelling—she’s to play Mary Magdalene.”
“I could fit the parts better,” said the groom.
“Of course. You’d have played St. John,” said the saddler—“or, maybe, Christus himself!”
“I’d have Paulette Dubois play Mary the sinner.”
“Magdalene repented, and knelt at the foot of the cross. She was sorry and sinned no more,” said the Notary’s wife in querulous reprimand.
“Well, Paulette does all that,” said the stolid, dark-visaged groom.
Filion Lacasse’s ears pricked up. “How do you know—she hasn’t come back?”
“Hasn’t she, though! And with her child too—last night.”
“Her child!” Madame Dauphin was scandalised and amazed.