“Oh! yes, I do now, but I was thinking of England when I spoke.”
“That is far away from here, surely.”
“Ah! yes,” I sighed. So did the man opposite me. We were silent then for a few moments when he spoke again.
“There is a countree I should like to see and dat is France. I hear, sir, I hear my mother talk of dat countree, and I tink—I should like to go there. But that is far away from here, too far away, sure.”
My heart leapt up. Here, if ever, must be the man I was in search of.
“You are a French-Canadian, I suppose?”
“Yes, Sir, I am dat.”
“And where do you live?” said I.
“I work in de mill; de largess mill in the Chaudière. You know dat great water, the fall under the bridge, dat we call the Chaudière.”
“I know it well,” said I, “but I have never gone properly over any of the mills. I should like to go some day very much. Should I see you anywhere if I went down?”