"Yes, Louis, but Louis--ah, what is the matter, dear! I cannot bear that
look in your face. What is the matter, Louis?"

"Tardif took it to Fournel, and you followed. And I have been living in
another man's house, on another's bread--"

"O Louis, no--no--no! Our money has paid for all."

"Your money, Madelinette!" His voice rose.

"Ah, don't speak like that! See, Louis. It can make no difference. How
you have found out I do not know, but it can make no difference. I did
not want you to know--you loved the Seigneury so. I concealed the will;
Tardif found it, as you say. But, Louis, dear, it is all right.
Monsieur Fournel would not take the place, and--and I have bought it."

She told her falsehood fearlessly. This man's trouble, this man's peace,
if she might but win it, was the purpose of her life.

"Tardif said that--he said that you--that you and Fournel--"

She read his meaning in his tone, and shrank back in terror, then with a
flush, straightened herself, and took a step towards him.

"It was natural that you should not care for a hunchback like me," he
continued, "but--"

"Louis!" she cried, in a voice of anguish and reproach.