He was now fully aware that some one was in the store. How the intruder had entered he could not guess, for the key was under his pillow with his watch and his pistol.
As cautiously as he could he donned an extra garment, thrust his bare feet into slippers, and crept out into the portico, pistol in hand.
The shutters of one of the store windows were open. He stood close to it, and waited, which he considered surer and safer than to enter the dark and crowded confines of the store to engage in what might prove a bootless struggle with the intruder.
He had not long to wait. In a few moments some one darted through the open window as nimbly as a cat. ’Polyte staggered back as if a heavy blow had stunned him. His first thought and his first exclamation were: “My God! how close I come to killin’ you!”
It was Azélie. She uttered no cry, but made one quick effort to run when she saw him. He seized her arm and held her with a brutal grip. He put the pistol back into his pocket. He was shaking like a man with the palsy. One by one he took from her the parcels she was carrying, and flung them back into the store. There were not many: some packages of tobacco, a cheap pipe, some fishing-tackle, and the flask which she had brought with her in the afternoon. This he threw into the yard. It was still empty, for she had not been able to find the “key” to the whisky-barrel.
“So—so, you a thief!” he muttered savagely under his breath.
“You hurtin’ me, Mr. ’Polyte,” she complained, squirming. He somewhat relaxed, but did not relinquish, his hold upon her.
“I ain’t no thief,” she blurted.
“You was stealin’,” he contradicted her sharply.
“I wasn’ stealin’. I was jus’ takin’ a few li’le things you all too mean to gi’ me. You all treat my popa like he was a dog. It’s on’y las’ week Mr. Mathurin sen’ ’way to the city to fetch a fine buckboa’d fo’ Son Ambroise, an’ he’s on’y a nigga, après tout. An’ my popa he want a picayune tobacca? It’s ‘No’—” She spoke loud in her monotonous, shrill voice. ’Polyte kept saying: “Hush, I tell you! Hush! Somebody’ll year you. Hush! It’s enough you broke in the sto’—how you got in the sto’?” he added, looking from her to the open window.