"Good, then," he went on, for he thought it wise not to press her now,
though he had no intention of taking her no as final. "I'll keep an eye
on you. You'll need me some day soon; I can do things that the Cure
can't, perhaps." His manner changed still more. "Now to business," he
continued. "Your father has been talking about letters received and sent
from the post-office. That is punishable. I am responsible for you
both, and if it is reported, if the woman were to report it--you know
the letter I mean--there would be trouble. You do not talk. Now I am
going to ask the government to make you sole postmistress, with full
responsibility. Then you must govern your father--he hasn't as much
sense as you."

"Monsieur, we owe you so much! I am deeply grateful, and, whatever you
do for us, you may rely on me to do my duty."

They could scarcely hear each other speak now, for the soldiers were
coming nearer, and the fife-and-drum bands were screeching, 'Louis the
King was a Soldier'.

"Then you will keep the government as your husband?" he asked, with
forced humour, as he saw the Cure and the Notary approaching.

"It is less trouble, Seigneur," she answered, with a smile of relief.

M. Rossignol turned to the Cure and the Notary. "I have just offered
Mademoiselle a husband she might rule in place of a government that rules
her, and she has refused," he said in the Cure's ear, with a dry laugh.

"She's a sensible girl, is Rosalie," said the Cure, not apprehending.