When she is gayest,
and when, as it might seem, I am quite happy, talking to her, or
picnicking, or idling on the river, or helping her with her lessons, I
have sadness, I know not why."
The Judge pressed his friend's arm firmly. His voice grew more insistent.
"Now, Maitre Fille, I think I understand the story, but there are lacunee
which you must fill. You say the thing happened three days ago--now, when
will the work be finished?"
"The work will be finished to-morrow, monsieur. Only one workman is left,
and he will be quit of his task to-night."
"So the thing--the comedy or tragedy will come to an end to-morrow?"
remarked the Judge seriously. "How did you find out that the workmen go
tomorrow, maitre?"
"Jean Jacques--he told me yesterday."
"Then it all ends to-morrow," responded the Judge.
The puzzled subordinate stood almost still, and looked at the Judge in
wonder. Why should it all end to-morrow simply because the work was
finished at the flume? At last he spoke.
"It is only twelve miles to Laplatte where George Masson lives, and he
has, besides, another contract near here, but three miles from the Manor
Cartier. Also besides, how can we know what she will do--Jean Jacques'
wife. How can we tell but that she will perhaps go and leave the beloved
Zoe alone!"
"And leave our little philosopher--miller also alone?" remarked the Judge
quizzically, yet with solemnity.
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