as she goes swingeing flax, and swelling feet that sweat in sabots,
and chin thrust out from carrying pails upon her head--"

"Ay, like Nanette and like Lablanche, this peasant mother of M'sieu'
Doltaire, and maybe no such firm breasts like Nanette--"

"Nor such an eye as has Lablanche. Well, M'sieu' Doltaire, who
could override them all, he could not kill this barbarian. And
Gabord--you know well how they fought, and the black horse and
his rider came and carried him away. Why, the young M'sieu'
Duvarney had him on his knees, the blade at his throat,
and a sword flashed out from the dark--they say it was the
devil's--and took him in the ribs and well-nigh killed him."

"But what say you to Ma'm'selle Duvarney coming to him that day,
and again yesterday with Gabord?"

"Well, well, who knows, Bamboir? This morning I said to Nanette,
'Why is't, all in one moment, you send me to the devil, and pray to
meet me in Abraham's bosom too?' What think you she answered me?
Why, this, my Bamboir: 'Why is't Adam loved his wife and swore
her down before the Lord also, all in one moment?' Why Ma'm'selle
Duvarney does this or that is not for muddy brains like ours. It
is some whimsy. They say that women are more curious about the
devil than about St. Jean Baptiste. Perhaps she got of him a
magic book."

"No, no! If he had the magic Petit Albert, he would have turned
us into dogs long ago. But I do not like him. He is but thirty
years, they say, and yet his hair is white as a pigeon's wing. It