So it went on. M. Marchand,
he goes on to the mountains and comes back; and he buys more horses, and
Dennis takes them to Yargo, and M. Marchand goes with him, but comes back
before Dennis does. It was then M'sieu' begun to talk to me; to say
things that soothe a woman when she is hurt. I knew now Dennis did not
want me as when he first married me. He was that kind of man--quick to
care and quicker to forget. He was weak, he could not fasten where he
stood. It pleased him to be gay and friendly with me when he was sober,
but there was nothing behind it--nothing, nothing at all. At last I
began to cry when I thought of it, for it went on and on, and I was too
much alone. I looked at myself in the glass, and I saw I was not old or
lean. I sang in the trees beside the brook, and my voice was even a
little better than in the days when Dennis first came to my father's
house. I looked to my cooking, and I knew that it was as good as ever.
I thought of my clothes, and how I did my hair, and asked myself if I
was as fresh to see as when Dennis first came to me. I could see no
difference. There was a clear pool not far away under the little hills
where the springs came together.
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