Nêne/Part 1/Chapter 6

N this July Sunday, Michael Corbier was at St. Ambroise and Madeleine was in charge of the house. She was saying prayers alone with the children.

Boiseriot, the Catholic farm-hand, came in. This was also his Sunday on duty. He sat down at the table and called out:

"Where's the soup?"

Madeleine paid no attention, for this was the hour of prayer.

"The soup! The soup!"

He began to bang on the table with the handle of his knife. Before his employers he would never have dared to show his impatience at such a time. Madeleine got up, still holding her rosary, and silently placed the tureen before him; then, as he looked at her with a leering smile, she turned her back on him.

She disliked this man. He was a bachelor around thirty-five, of small build and ordinary appearance. He was a good farm-hand, though, stronger than he looked, but not much of a talker, rather sly and underhanded. Madeleine distrusted him, not because he was a Catholic, but because he looked at her with wicked, glittering eyes.

At twenty-seven, after fourteen years of farm labour, she had often enough, run against the inherent roughness of the male. She had always known how to defend herself laughingly. A little teasing didn't frighten her and, when necessary, she knew how to use her fists. But she did not know how to deal with these silent fellows with the bold eyes.

When Boiseriot had finished eating, he remained sitting at his place, watching her move about. She felt relieved when at last he went away.

That evening, when the baby was asleep, she went out into the front yard; and then she remembered that the men's beds had not been made. The farm-hands slept in a lean-to at the end of the grange, and there is where she went now. As she was passing through the stables she saw Boiseriot stretched out there on a bunch of fresh straw. Seeing her come, he sat up and caught her by the leg. She pulled away and passed on, when suddenly he jumped up and threw himself at her like a lecherous beast. She reached out and gave him a blow that stunned him; but not enough to stop him, so she faced him squarely and gave him another blow.

"You dirty beast! Wait till I tell the master!"

"You—pockfaced fiend!" he growled. "You aren't so touchy with other people!"

"Boiseriot, I don't hear you right!"

"Well, I can see right enough! You'll tell the master, eh? I wouldn't be surprised! I'll get the boot, that's a sure thing. You're already the boss in this house, but I'll go and tell everybody what I know."

"What will you tell, Boiseriot?"

"I'll tell them! And I'll sic the whole neighbourhood on you! And we'll come and raise the devil at your door

Madeleine bent over, listening to his shameless talk. Indignation shook her from head to foot.

"Oh, you devil! Take that!"

Madeleine struck out with closed fists, like a man.

"Take that, you dog!—and that, you snake!—Ah! I've got you groggy! You poor runt, I'd grind you under my heel if it weren't for Christian mercy!"

To keep from striking him any more, Madeleine ran off to the men's quarters, where she relieved her nerves by shaking the feather mattresses.

Behind her, Boiseriot picked himself up and brushed off his soiled clothes. With an evil gleam in his eye, he threatened:

"You pockmarked devil! I'll sic the neighbours on you!"