the poor-spirited, go singly. You should be mated. You can't marry any
of the young farmers of Chaudiere. 'Tis impossible. I can give you
enough for any woman's needs--the world may be yours to see and use to
your heart's content. I can give, too"--he drew himself up proudly--"
the unused emotions of a lifetime." This struck him as a very fine and
important thing to say.

"Ah, Monsieur, that is not enough," she responded. "What more can you
want?"

She looked up with a tearful smile. "I will tell you one day, Monsieur."

"What day?"

"I have not picked it out in the calendar."

"Fix the day, and I will wait till then. I will not open my mouth again
till then."

"Michaelmas day, then, Monsieur," she answered mechanically and at
haphazard, but with an urged gaiety, for a great depression was on her.

"Good. Till Michaelmas day, then!" He pulled his long nose, laughing
silently. . . . "I leave the tailor in your hands. Give every man
his chance, I say. The Abbe is a hard man, but our hearts are soft--eh,
eh, very soft!" He raised his hat and turned to the door.