rights of the Seigneur as of old."

"Tiens! it is my mind," said Benoit, "that a man that nature twists in
back, or leg, or body anywhere, gets a twist in's brain too. There's
Parpon the dwarf--God knows, Parpon is a nut to crack!"

"But Parpon isn't married to the greatest singer in the world, though
she's only the daughter of old leather-belly there," said Gingras.

"Something doesn't come of nothing, snub-nose," said Lajeunesse. "Mark
you, I was born a man of fame, walking bloody paths to glory; but, by the
grace of Heaven and my baptism, I became a forgeron. Let others ride to
glory, I'll shoe their horses for the gallop."

"You'll be in Parliament yet, Lajeunesse," said Duclosse the mealman, who
had been dozing on a pile of untired cart-wheels.

"I'll be hanged first, comrade."

"One in the family at a time," said Muroc. "There's the Seigneur. He's
going into Parliament."

"He's a magistrate--that's enough," said Duclosse. "He's started the
court under the big tree, as the Seigneurs did two hundred years ago.
He'll want a gibbet and a gallows next."

"I should think he'd stay at home and not take more on his shoulders!"
said the one-eyed shoemaker. Without a word, Lajeunesse threw a dish of
water in Gingras's face. This reference to the Seigneur's deformity was
unpalatable.