"Oh, His Excellency 'll keep his oath,"
said the mealman. "I'd take Elise Malboir's word about a man for a
million francs, was he prince or ditcher; and she says he's the greatest
man in the world. She knows."
"That reminds me," said Lajeunesse gloomily, "Elise has the black fever."
The mealman's face seemed to petrify, his eyes stood out, the bread he
had in his teeth dropped, and he stared wildly at Lajeunesse. All were
occupied in watching the mealman, and they did not see the figure of a
girl approaching.
Muroc, dumfounded, spoke first. "Elise--the black fever!" he gasped,
thoroughly awed.
"She is better, she will live," said a voice behind Lajeunesse. It was
Madelinette, who had come to the camp early to cook her father's
breakfast.
Without a word, the mealman turned, pulled his clothes about him with a
jerk, and, pale and bewildered, started away at a run down the plateau.
"He's going to the village," said the charcoalman. "He hasn't leave.
That's court-martial!"
Lajeunesse shook his head knowingly. "He's never had but two ideas in his
nut-meal and Elise; let him go."
The mealman was soon lost to view, unheeding the challenge that rang
after him.
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