eyes met. Her heart beat faster, for there was a look in his eyes she
had never seen before--a look of human helplessness, of deep anxiety. It
was meant for her--for herself alone. She could not trust herself to go
and speak to him. She felt that she must burst into tears. So, with a
look of pity and pain, she watched the wagon go down the street.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!--the Seigneur's gold-headed cane rattled on the
front door of the tailor-shop. It was plain to be seen his business was
urgent.

Madame Dauphin came hurrying from the postoffice, followed by Maximilian
Cour and Filion Lacasse. "Ah, M'sieu', the tailor will not answer.
There's no use knocking--not a bit, M'sieu' Rossignol," said Madame.

The Seigneur turned querulously upon the Notary's wife, yet with a glint
of hard humour in his eye. He had no love for Madame Dauphin. He
thought she took unfair advantages of M. Dauphin, whom also he did not
love, but whose temperament did him credit.

"How should Madame know whether or no the gentleman will answer? Does
Madame share the gentleman's confidence, perhaps?" he remarked.

Madame did not reply at once. She turned on the saddler and the baker.
"I hope you'll learn a lesson," she cried triumphantly. "I've always
said the tailor was quite the gentleman; and now you see how your betters
call him. No, M'sieu', the gentleman will not answer," she added to the
Seigneur.

"He is in bed yet, Madame?"