“Come where, you old fool?” said her master with pardonable irritation.
“Oh! save us, they will be here in a jiffy!”
“Who? the caterpillars?—let them spread over the fields. Now I won’t hear another word about those brutes of farmers.”
“But they are threatening the most dreadful things!”
“Pooh! what do I care for them? Do they threaten to bring me before the Tribunal? Let them come on, I am ready for them.”
“Ah, dear Master! a suit is nothing to what they threaten to do.”
“For the love of Heaven, woman, speak out!”
“They are all at big Picq’s house down in the village, and what do you think? They are making charms and exorcisms to drive all the mice and insects from their own fields to your orchard and cellar!”
Chamaille sprang to his feet. “To think of those fiends! Sending locusts to eat up my fruit! How dare they even think of such a thing! St. Simon, have mercy on your poor vicar!”
We could not help laughing, and tried our best to calm him, but it was of no use.