Part 32 (1/2)

Pressed by his creditors he had forged his uncle's name. The only way out of the affair was to borrow from Julie to hush up the matter. It did not occur to him at the time how she would feel about the girl; neither did he realize that he had grown to be an arrogant young sn.o.b who now treated Julie, who had saved his life, and pampered him, more like a servant than a foster-mother.

The night young Garron arrived was at the moment of the highest tides.

The four supped together that night in the hut--the father silent and sullen throughout the meal and Julie insanely jealous of the girl. Later old Garron went off across the marsh in the moonlight to look after his snares.

When the three were alone Julie turned to the boy. For some moments she regarded him shrewdly. She saw he was no longer the wild young savage she had brought up; there was a certain nervous, blase feebleness about his movements as he sat uneasily in his chair, his hands thrust in the pockets of his hunting coat, his chin sunk on his chest. She noticed too, the unnatural redness of his lips and the haggard pallor about his thin, sunken cheeks.

”_Eh ben, mon pet.i.t_--” she began at length. ”It is a poor place to get fat in, your Paris! They don't feed you any too well--_hein?_--Those grand restaurants you talk so much about. Pouf!”

”_Penses-tu?_” added the girl, since Garron did not reply. Instead he lighted a fresh cigarette, took two long puffs from it, and threw it on the floor.

The girl, angered at his silence and lack of courage, gave him a vicious glance.

”_Helas!_” sighed Julie, ”you were quicker with your tongue when you were a baby.”

”_Ah zut!_” exclaimed the girl in disgust. ”He has something to tell you--” she blurted out to Julie.

”_Eh ben!_ What?” demanded Julie firmly.

”I need some money,” muttered the boy doggedly. ”I _need it!!_” he cried suddenly, gaining courage in a sort of nervous hysteria.

Julie stared at him in amazement, the girl watching her like a lynx.

”_Bon Dieu!_” shouted Julie. ”And it is because of _that_ you sit there like a sick cat! Listen to me, my little one. Eat the good grease like the rest of us and be content if you keep out of jail.”

The boy sank lower in his chair.

”It will be jail for me,” he said, ”unless you help me. Give me five hundred francs. I tell you I am in a bad fix. _Sacre bon Dieu!_--you _shall_ give it to me!” he cried, half springing from his chair.

”Shut up, thou,” whispered the girl--”not so fast!”

”Do you think it rains money here?” returned Julie, closing her red fists upon the table, ”that all you have to do is to ask for it? _Ah, mais non, alors!_”

The boy slunk back in his chair staring at the tallow dip disconsolately. The girl gritted her small teeth--somehow, she felt abler than he to get it out of Julie in the end.

”You stole it, _hein?_” cried Julie, ”like your father. Name of a dog!

it is the same old trick that, and it brings no good. _Allons!_” she resumed after a short pause. ”_Depeche toi!_ Get out for your ducks--I'm going to bed.”

”Give me four hundred,” pleaded the boy.

”Not a sou!” cried Julie, bringing her fist down on the greasy table, and she shot a jealous glance at the girl.

Without a word, young Garron rose dejectedly, got into his goatskin coat, picked up his gun and, turning, beckoned to the girl.

”Go on!” she cried; ”I'll come later.”

”He is an infant,” said she to Julie, when young Garron had closed the door behind him. ”He has no courage. You know the fix we are in--the Commissaire of Police in Paris already has word of it.”

Julie did not reply; she still sat with her clenched fists outstretched on the table.