"What is it, Jean Jacques?" asked the little Clerk of the Court gently,
coming forward and laying a hand on the steaming flank of a spent and
trembling pony.
As though he could not withdraw his gaze from Sebastian Dolores, Jean
Jacques did not look at M. Fil1e; but he thrust out the long whip he
carried towards the father of his vanished Carmen and his Zoe's
grandfather, and with the deliberation of one to whom speaking was like
the laceration of a nerve he said: "Zoe's run away--gone--gone!"
At that moment Louis Charron, his cousin, at whose house Gerard Fynes had
lodged, came down the street galloping his horse. Seeing the red wagon,
he made for it, and drew rein.
"It's no good, Jean Jacques," he called. "They're married and gone to
Montreal--married right under our noses by the Protestant minister at
Terrebasse Junction. I've got the telegram here from the stationmaster
at Terrebasse. . . . Ah, the villain to steal away like that--only a
child--from her own father! Here it is--the telegram.
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