her to Farette, the old miller, to whom they owed money for flour. They brought Farette to the house at last, and she was patient while he ogled her, and smoked his strong tabac, and tried to sing. She was kind to him, and said nothing until, one day, urged by her brother Solime, he mumbled the childish chanson Bénoit sang the day he left, as he passed their house going up the river:
"High in a nest of the tam’rac tree,
Swing under, so free, and swing over;
Swing under the sun and swing over the world,
My snow-bird, my gay little lover—
My gay little lover, don, don! … don, don!
"When the winter is done I will come back home,
To the nest swinging under and over,
Swinging under and over and waiting for me,
Your rover, my snow-bird, your rover—
Your lover and rover, don, don! … don, don!"
It was all very well in the mouth of the sprightly, sentimental Bénoit; it was hateful foolishness in Farette. Annette now came to her feet suddenly, her pale face showing defiance, and her big brown eyes flicking anger. She walked up to the miller and said: "You are old and ugly and a fool. But I do not hate you; I hate Solime, my brother, for bringing you here. There is the bill for the flour? Well, I will pay it myself—and you can go as soon as you like."
Then she put on her coat and capote and mittens, and went to the door. "Where are you going, Ma’m’selle?" cried Solime, in high rage.
"I am going to M’sieu’ Medallion," she said.
Hard profane words followed her, but she ran, and
