Old Catichou died, and Jacques returned to the village, to the great annoyance of every one, for he was a worthless fellow. Madame Pallois especially was grieved to think that he would set a bad example to Françou, and teach her many evil habits; but there was no means of preventing him from coming to his own house, or from having with him one who was believed to be his daughter, for he had forbidden her to say he was not her father, as he did not wish it to be known that he had been into Maine, where he had been guilty of many fraudulent practices, which he feared might be discovered. Françou said nothing about the matter at first, or if she did, what she said had not been understood, as she could not speak the patois of the country, and after a time she ceased to think of it. She cried very much when Catichou died; but she was indifferent about seeing Jacques again, for she no longer felt afraid of him. Three years had passed since his departure, and she had forgotten his ill treatment. She was now eight years of age, clever, active, and determined: she was, besides, kind-hearted in the highest degree, always ready to oblige, going of errands for one, and assisting another in driving his donkey, or weeding his garden. In fine, every one loved her, and, indeed she would have well merited this love, had it not been for that one bad propensity, of which all were as yet ignorant.
Perhaps she might have overcome this fault, for loving Jacques much less than Catichou, she had no wish to carry anything to him, and she never thought of stealing for herself. Besides, she saw little of him, for he had connected himself with a band of smugglers—people who fraudulently import merchandise without paying the duty. He frequently passed whole days and nights away from home; and had it not been for the inhabitants of the village, Françou would often have run the risk of perishing of hunger.
One day when she complained of his not giving her anything to eat, he told her, in a brutal tone, that he had nothing to give her, and that she must go and earn her living by asking for alms on the high road, where just then many persons were expected to pass on their way to a neighbouring fair. Françou at first refused; Jacques told her that he would beat her, and not allow her to enter the house, if she did not bring something back with her in the evening. She went, therefore.
The first person who passed by, refused to give her anything; the second called her a lazy thing, and a little boy made game of her. Françou had often heard it said that she was pretty, and such compliments had rendered her proud, neither was she accustomed to insults; she therefore returned home, her heart burning with shame, and her eyes filled with tears, and declared that she would never beg again. Jacques beat her, and the following day led her by force upon the high road; but the moment he was out of sight she went away. In the evening, he asked her how much she had received.
"Nothing," she replied, "I did not remain upon the road." He beat her again: she began to scream, and in the midst of her tears protested a thousand times, that no one should force her to be called a little lazy thing. Jacques turned her out of the house, and she passed the whole night out of doors. In the morning he found her half-dead with cold: "Do you mean to go upon the road to-day?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, "but it will be to go away altogether."
In a transport of fury Jacques raised his hand.
"I am going," she said, running away.
"I will lock you up," exclaimed Jacques.
"So much the better; then I shall not have to go upon the road."