“Is it not!” he burst forth, striking the table with his fist. “Know you not I would be rich, but for that fur stealer. By right those should be my furs he sends here in trade. There will be another tale to tell soon, now that La Barre hath the reins of power; and this 21 De Artigny––bah! What care I for that young cockerel––but I hate the brood. Listen, girl, I pay my debts; it was this hand that broke Louis de Artigny, and has kept him to his bed for ten years past. Yet even that does not wipe out the score between us. ’Tis no odds to you what was the cause, but while I live I hate. So you have my orders; you will speak no more with this De Artigny.”
“’Tis not like I shall have opportunity.”
“I will see to that. The fool looked at you in a way that made me long to grip his throat; nor do I like your answer, yet ’twill be well for you to mark my words.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Oh, you’re sweet enough with words. I have heard you before, and found you a sly minx––when my back was turned––but this time it is not I alone who will watch your actions. I have pledged you a husband.”
I got to my feet, staring at him, the indignant words stifled in my throat. He laughed coarsely, and resumed his meal.
“A husband, Monsieur? You have pledged me?”
“Ay! why not? You are seventeen, and ’tis my place to see you well settled.”
“But I have no wish to marry, Monsieur,” I protested. “There is no man for whom I care.”