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.
"I do not know, Monsieur."
"You have been opposite him here these months past—did you ever see anything not—not as it should be?"
"With him, Monsieur? Never."
"It is as though the infidel behaved like a good Catholic and a
Christian?"
"There are good Catholics in Chaudiere who do not behave like
Christians."
"What would you say, for instance, about his past?"