As soon as Basil saw the notary he asked him about the English ships.
"Father Leblanc, thou hast heard the talk of the village. Perhaps, thou canst tell us something about the ships and their errand."
"I have heard enough talk," answered the notary, "but I am none the wiser. Yet I am not one of those who think that the ships are here to do us evil. We are at peace and, why then, should they harm us?"
"Must we in all things look for the how and the why and wherefore?" shouted the hasty and somewhat excitable blacksmith. "Injustice is often done and might is the right of the strongest."
"Man is unjust," replied the notary, "but God is just, and finally justice triumphs. I remember a story that has often consoled me when things have seemed to be going wrong.
"Once in an ancient city, whose name I have forgotten, there stood high on a marble column, in the public square, a brazen statue of Justice holding her scales in her left hand and a sword in her right. This meant that justice reigned over the land and in the hearts and the homes of the people. Yet in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted and might took the place of right, the weak were oppressed, and the mighty ruled with a rod of iron. By and by, birds built their nests in the scales of Justice; they were not afraid of the sword that flashed in the sunshine above them.
"It happened that in the palace of a wealthy nobleman a necklace of pearls disappeared. Suspicion fell on a poor orphan girl, who was arrested and sentenced to be hanged right at the foot of the statue of Justice.
"The girl was put to death, but as her innocent spirit ascended to heaven a great storm arose and lightning struck the statue, angrily hurling the scales from the left hand of the figure of Justice. They fell to the pavement with a clatter and in one of the shattered nests was found the pearl necklace. It had been stolen by a magpie who had cunningly woven the string of pearls into the clay wall of her babies' cradle. So the poor girl was proven innocent and the people of that city were taught to be more careful of justice."
This story silenced the blacksmith but did not drive away his forebodings of evil. Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table and filled the great pewter tankard with home-brewed nut brown ale. The notary drew from his pocket his papers and his inkhorn and began to write the contract of marriage. In spite of his age his hand was steady, He set down the names and the ages of the parties and the amount of Evangeline's dowry in flocks of sheep and in cattle. All was done in accordance with the law and the paper was signed and sealed. Benedict took from his leathern pouch three times the notary's fee in solid pieces of silver. The old man arose and blessed the bride and the bridegroom, and then lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their health. Then wiping the foam from his lip, he bowed solemnly and went away.
The others sat quietly by the fireside until Evangeline brought the draught-board to her father and Basil and arranged the pieces for them. They were soon deep in the game, while Evangeline and her lover sat apart in the embrasure of a window and whispered together as they watched the moon rise over the sea. Their hearts were full of happiness as they looked into the future, believing that they would be together.