Look you then, the Spanische was the wife
of my third cousin, M'sieu' Jean Jacques, and--"
Virginie Poucette nodded, and the slight frown cleared from her low yet
shapely forehead. "Yes, yes, of course I know. I've heard enough. What
a fool she was, and M'sieu' Jean Jacques so rich and kind and good-
looking! So this is her father--well, well, well!"
Palass Poucette's widow leaned forward, and looked intently at Sebastian
Dolores, who had stopped near by, and facing a couple of barrels on which
were exposed some bottles of cordial and home-made wine. He was
addressing himself with cheerful words to the dame that owned the
merchandise.
"I suppose you think it's a pity Jean Jacques can't get a divorce,"
said Mere Langlois, rather spitefully to Virginie, for she had her
sex's aversion to widows who had had their share of mankind, and were
afterwards free to have someone else's share as well. But suddenly
repenting, for Virginie was a hard-working widow who had behaved very
well for an outsider--having come from Chalfonte beyond the Beau
Chevalshe added: "But if he was a Protestant and could get a divorce,
and you did marry him, you'd make him have more sense than he's got; for
you've a quiet sensible way, and you've worked hard since Palass Poucette
died.
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