"Then it all ends to-morrow," responded the Judge.

The puzzled subordinate stood almost still, and looked at the Judge in
wonder. Why should it all end to-morrow simply because the work was
finished at the flume? At last he spoke.

"It is only twelve miles to Laplatte where George Masson lives, and he
has, besides, another contract near here, but three miles from the Manor
Cartier. Also besides, how can we know what she will do--Jean Jacques'
wife. How can we tell but that she will perhaps go and leave the beloved
Zoe alone!"

"And leave our little philosopher--miller also alone?" remarked the
Judge quizzically, yet with solemnity. M. Fille was agitated; he made
a protesting gesture. "Jean Jacques can find comfort, but the child--ah,
no, it is too terrible! Someone should speak. I tried to do it--to
Madame Carmen, to Jean Jacques; but it was no use. How could I betray
her to him, how could I tell her that I knew her shame!"

The Judge turned brusquely and caught his friend by the shoulders,
fastening him with the eyes which had made many a witness forget to lie.

"If you were an avocat in practice I would ruin your reputation, Fille,"
he said. "A fool would tell Jean Jacques, or speak to the woman, and
spoil all; for women go mad when they are in danger, and they do the
impossible things. But did it not occur to you that the one person to
have in a quiet room with the doors shut, with the light of the sun in
his face, with the book of the law open on your desk and the damages to
be got by an injured husband, in a Catholic province with a Catholic