“P'r'aps you may walk to Mother Maillet's with me and say the good word to Jean from Tadousac and to Zelie Dionne, who is now so very glad,” suggested the old man, humbly. “The good priest he marry them very soon and they will go home.”
“Yes, I will go, Etienne. I can say good-by there to you and to Miss Dionne.”
“So you go visit some place, eh, after your hard work? That will be very good for you, M'sieu' Farr. You shall come back much rest up and then you will show the poor folks how you will help them some more.”
“I shall not come back—I am going away to stay.”
“But you promise under the big light at the hotel de ville—I hear you promise that you will stay,” protested the old man.
“My work is finished.”
“That is not so, M'sieu' Farr. For many men come to talk to me over the fence since I stand up in the big hall. They are wiser than such a fool as I am. They say that you have just begin to do great things for the poor folks. You shall take the water-pipes away from the men who have poison them. Ah, that is what they say. I do not understand, but they say it shall be so.”
“Other men can do it,” said Farr, curtly.
“And yet you will come back—when?” The old man was struggling with his bewilderment and doubt.
“Never.”