"Well, as I was saying," continued José, "La Thèque said to her husband: 'Are you going to see the girls, my man? Look out for yourself! If you get off any pranks I will let you into the soup.' "'You know very well I'm not,' said Larouche laughingly, and flicking her on the back with his whip. 'Here we are at the end of March, my grain is all thrashed out, and I'm going to carry my tithes to the priest.' "'That's right, my man,' said his wife, who was a good Christian; 'we must render back to God a share of what he has just given us.' "Larouche then threw his sacks upon the sled, lit his pipe with a hot coal, sprang aboard, and set off in high spirits. "As he was passing a bit of woods he met a traveler, who approached by a side path. "This stranger was a tall, handsome man of about thirty. Long fair hair fell about his shoulders, his blue eyes were as sweet as an angel's, and his countenance wore a sort of tender sadness. His dress was a long blue robe tied at the waist. Larouche said he had never seen any one so beautiful as this stranger, and that the loveliest woman was ugly in comparison. "'Peace be with you, my brother,' said the traveler. "'I thank you for your good wishes,' answered Davy; 'a good word burns nobody's mouth. But that is something I don't particularly need. I am at peace, thank God, with everybody. I have an excellent wife, good children, we get on well together, all my neighbors love me. I have nothing to desire in the way of peace.' "'I congratulate you,' said the traveler. 'Your sled is well loaded; where are you going this morning?' "'It is my tithes which I am taking to the priest.' "'It would seem, then,' said the stranger, 'that you have had a good harvest, reckoning one measure of tithes to every twenty-six measures of clean grain.' "'Good enough, I confess; but if I had had the weather just to my fancy it would have been something very much better.' "'You think so,' said the traveler. "'No manner of doubt of it,' answered Davy. "'Very well,' said the stranger; 'now you shall have just what weather you wish, and much good may it do you.' "Having spoken thus, he disappeared around the foot of a little hill. "'That's queer now,' thought Davy. 'I know very well that there are wicked people who go about the world putting spells on men, women, children, or animals. Take the case of the woman, Lestin Coulombe, who, on the very day of her wedding, made fun of a certain beggar who squinted in his left eye. She had good cause to regret it, poor thing; for he said to her angrily: "Take care, young woman, that your own children don't turn out cross-eyed." She trembled, poor creature, for every child she brought into the world, and not without good cause; for the fourteenth, when looked at closely, showed a blemish on its right eye.'"