You, a man of mind, married a girl who cared more for a touch of your
hand than a bucketful of your knowledge, which every man in the province
knows is great. At first you were almost always thinking of her and what
a fine woman she was, and because everyone admired her, you played the
peacock, too. I am not the only peacock. You are a good man--no one ever
said anything against your character. But always, always, you think most
of yourself. It is everywhere you go as if you say, 'Look out. I am
coming. I am Jean Jacques Barbille.
"'Make way for Jean Jacques. I am from the Manor Cartier. You have heard
of me.' . . . That is the way you say things in your mind. But all the
time the people say, 'That is Jean Jacques Barbille, but you should see
his wife. She is a wonder. She is at home at the Manor with the cows and
the geese. Jean Jacques travels alone through the parish to Quebec, to
Three Rivers, to Tadousac, to the great exhibition at Montreal, but
madame, she stays at home. M'sieu' Jean Jacques is nothing beside
her'--that is what the people say. They admire you for your brains, but
they would have fallen down before your wife, if you had given her half a
chance."
"Ah, that's bosh--what do you know!" exclaimed Jean Jacques fiercely, but
he was fascinated too by the argument of the man whose life he was going
to take.
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