tonnerre!_ Say, then, Gaspard, I'm in a hurry.
Shall we start with the gray?"

"Yes," Gaspard answered softly, as he continued to support Susette.

"No, no, no!" cried Susette. "Not to-day! I'm too sick."

"_Mais, cherie_," Gaspard began.

"You love your work better than you do me," sobbed Susette.

"_Nom d'un pourceau!_" droned Joseph.

"But this work is important," Gaspard argued desperately. "The gray has
not only cast a shoe, but the shoes on the others are loose. They've got
to be attended to. It's work that will bring me in a whole _ecu_."

"I don't care," said Susette. "I can't stand the smell of those horses,
and I could never, never bear the smell of the hot iron on their hoofs."

"But I'm a smith," argued Gaspard.

It was his ultimate appeal.

"I told you that you loved your work more than you did me," whimpered
Susette, beginning to cry. "'_I'm a smith; I'm a smith_'--that's all
you've talked about since you got me in your power."

Joseph the carter went away. He did so shaking his head, followed by his
shining Percherons, which were as majestic as elephants, but as gentle
as sheep. There was a tugging at Gaspard's heart as he saw them go.
Such horses! And no one could shoe a horse as could he. He looked down
at Susette's bowed head as she lay there cuddled in his arms. That
despairing cry was again swelling in his chest: "But I'm a smith." He
silenced it. He stroked the girl's head.

As he did so, he was mindful as never before of the clink and jangle of
the chain.

V.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked that afternoon as they lay out in
the shade of the poplars along the river bank.

"I want you to love me," she answered.

"I do love you. But we can't live on love--can we, Susette?--however
pleasant that would be. I've got to work."

"Ah, your _sacre_ work!"

"Still, you'll admit that you can't pick up _ecus_ in the road."

"You're thinking still of that miserable carter."

"No; but I'm thinking of his horses. Somebody's got to shoe them. You
can't let them go lame--or be lamed by a bungler. I could have done
that job as it should have been done."

"But I tell you," declared Susette, pronouncing each word with an
individual stress, "I can't support the grime and the odors and the
racket of your forge. You ought to find some work that I do like. We
could collect wild salads together--pick wild-flowers and sell
them--something like that."

Gaspard sighed.

"But a man's work