she breathed, and
the tears fell afresh.

"Tell me the truth, Suzette."

"I have told monsieur the--the--truth," she stammered bravely with a
fresh effort to strangle her sobs.

"You do not love Monsieur Tanrade, my child?"

"No, monsieur--I--I--was a little fool to have cried. It was stronger
than I--the news. The marriage is so gay, monsieur--it is so easy for
some."

"Ah--then you do love some one?"

"_Oui_, monsieur--" and her eyes looked up into mine.

"Who?"

"Gaston, monsieur--as always."

"Gaston, eh! the little soldier I lodged during the manoeuvres--the
little trombonist whom the general swore he would put in jail for
missing his train. _Sapristi!_ I had forgotten him--and you wish to
marry him, Suzette?"

She nodded mutely in assent, then with a hopeless little sigh she added:
"_Helas_--it is not easy--when one has nothing one must work hard and
wait--_Ah, mon Dieu!_"

"Sit down, my little one," I said. "I have something serious to think
over." She did as I bade her, seating herself in silence before the
fire. I have never regarded Suzette as a servant--she has always been to
me more like a child whom I was responsible for. What would my house
abandoned by the marsh have been without her cheeriness, and her
devotion, I thought, and what would it be when she was gone? No other
Suzette would ever be like her--and her cooking would vanish with the
rest. _Diable!_ these little marriages play the devil with us at times.
And yet, if any one deserved to be happy it was Suzette. I realized too,
all that her going would mean to me, and moreover that her devotion to
her master was such that if I should say "stay" she would have stayed on
quite as if her own father had counselled her.

As I turned toward her sitting humbly in the chair, I saw she was again
struggling to keep back her tears. It was high time for me to speak.

I seated myself beside her upon the arm of the chair and took her warm
little hands in mine.

"You shall marry your Gaston, Suzette," I said, "and you shall have
enough to marry on even if I have to sell the big field and the cow that
goes with it."

She started, trembling violently, then gave a little gasp of joy.

"Oh, monsieur! and it is true?" she cried eagerly.

"Yes, my child--there shall be two weddings in Pont du Sable! Now run
and tell Monsieur le Cure."

* * * * *

Monsieur le Cure ran too, when he heard the news--straight to my hous