"Will you sit down?" said Agapit, sulkily, and he forced himself to offer the most comfortable chair in the room to his caller.
Vesper did not seat himself until he saw that Agapit was prepared to follow his example. Then he looked into the black eyes of the Acadien, which were like two of the deep, dark pools in the forest, and said, "A matter of business has brought me to this Bay. I may have some inquiries to make, in which I would find myself hampered by any prejudice among persons I might choose to question. I fancy that some of the people here look on me with suspicion. I am quite unaware of having given offence in any way. Possibly you can explain,—I am not bent on an explanation, you understand. If you choose to offer one, I shall be glad to listen."
He spoke listlessly, tapping on the table with his fingers, and allowing his eyes to wander around the room, rather than to remain fixed on Agapit's face.
The young Acadien could scarcely restrain a torrent of words until Vesper had finished speaking.
"Since you ask, I will explain,—yes, I will not be silent. We are not rude here,—oh, no. We are too kind to strangers. Vipers have crept in among us. They have stolen heat and warmth from our bosoms"—he paused, choking with rage.
"And you have reason to suppose that I may prove a viper?" asked Vesper, indolently.
"Yes, you also are one. You come here, we receive you. You depart, you laugh in your sleeve,—a newspaper comes. We see it all. The meek and patient Acadiens are once more held up to be a laughing-stock."
Vesper wrinkled his level eyebrows. "Perhaps you will characterize this viperish conduct?"
Agapit calmed himself slightly. "Wait but an instant. Control your curiosity, and I will give you something to read," and he went on his knees, and rummaged among some loose papers in an open box. "Look at it," he said, at last, springing up and handing his caller a newspaper; "read, and possibly you will understand."