"Not at all. Two such learned men would soon understand each other. After all, you know, you must do as you think best. Good-morning! Thank you for Jean-Louis; send him to me quickly. I must hurry off to my rascally wood-cutters in the wood of Montreux."
And the game-keeper turned his back without waiting for an answer, puffing away at his pipe so tremendously his cap was in a cloud of smoke.
Ragaud continued to shell his peas, but it was easy to see he felt rather anxious. Nevertheless, when he had ended his work, he re-entered the house without showing any discomposure.
Jean-Louis left home that morning to spend a fortnight with Michou, depressed in spirits, but still hoping the best. On passing through Val-Saint, he stopped at M. le Curé's, who confirmed all that Michou had said about the Perdreaux. That dear, good man was much distressed, but could not think of any remedy for the evil; but he promised Jeannet to say Mass for the family, and highly approved of his leaving Muiceron for a time.
Meanwhile, the Ragauds acted as though they were bewitched. During the first week after the departure of Jeannet, his name was scarcely mentioned, even by Pierrette. They appeared to have lost all recollection of the services the excellent-hearted boy had rendered his adopted parents. No one thought of him or noticed him when he returned sometimes late at night from his hard day's work; and, had it not been for the good Luguets, poor Jean-Louis would have been as isolated in the world as if he had been brought up in a foundling asylum—his first destination. But God did not abandon him, and, although always very sad, he did not lose courage. Every evening, whether he returned or not to Muiceron, he visited his friends, and there, with Pierre and Solange, he recovered his good-humor, or at least maintained his gentleness and resignation. His friendship for Solange increased day by day. He suspected nothing, nor she either; for although very friendly and intimate, they only felt toward each other like brother and sister. However, all was known in the village—better, perhaps, than elsewhere—and the gossips commenced to say that the devout Solange jumped at marriage as quickly as any other girl. Several of the girls even commenced to tease her about him; all of which she received gently, and smiled without being displeased, contenting herself with the remark that, after all, she might choose worse; and her work was continued more faithfully than ever.
One evening, when Pierre and his parents remained rather late at the fair at Andrieux, which is three good leagues from Ordonniers, and which is only reached by roads very difficult to travel in the bad season, Jeannet, as usual, went to the Luguets, and was surprised to find Solange all alone. She blushed slightly when she saw him, not from embarrassment, however, but only, I imagine, because she remembered the reports that were circulating in the village. Jeannet took his usual seat, which was always near hers. The month of November was nearly ended, and that morning Michou had told Jean-Louis that Jeannette's betrothal would take place a little before Christmas, and the marriage soon after. The poor fellow was overwhelmed with sorrow; he poured all his grief into Solange's ear, and so great was his confidence in her that he allowed himself to weep in her presence.
"You have lost your courage and become thoroughly hopeless," said Solange gently. "I don't like that in a man, still less in a Christian."
"How can I help it? Am I made of stone?" replied Jeannet, his head buried in his hands. "Alas! alas! Solange, I believed your words. I thought that God would have mercy on us, and that this unfortunate marriage would not take place."
"I don't see that it has yet," replied Solange. "In the first place, they only speak of signing the contract a month from now, and up to then the mill will turn more than once; and, after all, does not God know better than we what is good for us, poor blind things that we are?"
"That is true; but to see Jeannette the wife of that man, without faith or fear of God or law; to see my old father and dear, good mother reduced to want; to be obliged to leave the country, and never see Muiceron again! For think, Solange, that Jeannette, when she signs her marriage contract, will know that I am not her brother! I will not wait to be told that my place is outside of the house. God knows I have worked for my parents, and their tenderness never humiliated me, but to receive a benefit from Isidore—no, never!" cried Jean-Louis, raising his eyes that flashed with honest pride.