"Quite natural," said Mère Tabeau. "The very young are absent-minded, and the very old, but also those who are immersed in affairs and those who are in love. They are most absorbing, those affairs of the heart. I remember well my last case, now many years ago. Some day I will tell you the story. Perhaps you could listen to it now." "But no, Madame, I am in haste this evening. Another time, if you please. You had something else to say, had you not?" "Not at all, Monseigneur. The poor old woman has nothing to say--nothing. Another time, when his lordship has a few minutes to spare for such trifles--his own affairs, moreover--I will wait upon him." "Oh, Madame, do not be angry. I will listen, to be sure, all the afternoon, if I can be of service to you." "Service to yourself, my friend. But no matter. I accept your apologies. I am well disposed, as you will see, and I wish to help you out of your troubles." "My troubles?" said Jean, with a puzzled frown. "I do not understand. You speak in mysterious language, it seems. All of us have our little troubles, I suppose." "Monsieur does not understand--will not, rather. Mysterious? Not at all. Does not everybody know that Monsieur Giroux would effect an alliance with one of the most prominent families in the parish? Is it possible that he has not yet heard what is common report?" "Madame Tabeau, if that is all I had better go. I am really very busy." "But, but, Monsieur, these affairs can be arranged, no matter how complicated, involved, entangled. I have charms, herbs, love potions, and all that, and there are other means still more efficacious. Besides, my charges are very moderate, a little commission, a mere bagatelle when compared with a dowry so magnificent, a connection so advantageous. If Mademoiselle----" "Madame, that will do. The neighbours may gossip, if they please, but I will not. Allow me to leave you at this time." "Go then, stupid! _Sacrée tête de mouton_! The fool will not listen. Well, he will suffer, he will pay; and I will offer my services to some one else. His lordship is not the only eligible young man in the parish of St. Placide." "If that is all, Madame, I bid you good evening." "No, there is something else. My friend, do not mind the ravings of an old woman, an old, old woman, poor and infirm. Old people like to talk, as you know, and say more than they should, at times. But it is their only pleasure. When one talks to a good listener like yourself one forgets. It is good to forget, Jean, to extinguish the fires of memory, if only for a moment. It is like a cup of cold water to a soul in purgatory." "Madame." "Yes, yes, I know. You are sorry for me, but not as I am sorry for myself. When I think of what I might have been and what I am, I could cry--and curse. But let us change the subject. You remember my nephew, Pamphile Lareau, do you not? A playmate of yours, I believe, some years ago."