then, he doesn't know! People can't know everything!"

Fourchon grew very uneasy on seeing how his son-in-law's countenance
softened as well as his words.

"What do you want to rob me of now?" he asked, candidly.

"I?" said Tonsard, "I take none but my legitimate dues; if I get
anything from you it is in payment of your daughter's portion, which
you promised me and never paid."

Fourchon, reassured by the harshness of this remark, dropped his head
on his breast as though vanquished and convinced.

"Look at that pretty snare," resumed Tonsard, coming up to his
father-in-law and laying the trap upon his knee. "Some of these days
they'll want game at Les Aigues, and we shall sell them their own,
or there will be no good God for the poor folks."

"A fine piece of work," said the old man, examining the mischievous
machine.

"It is very well to pick up the sous now, papa," said Mam Tonsard,
"but you know we are to have our share in the cake of Les Aigues."

"Oh, what chatterers women are!" cried Tonsard. "If I am hanged it
won't be for a shot from my gun, but for the gabble of your tongue."

"And do you really suppose that Les Aigues will be cut up and sold in
lots for your pitiful benefit?" asked Fourchon. "Pshaw! haven't you