And he found out also--how, is not
important--that she was Idalie Sainte Foy Mortemart des Islets. _La
grande demoiselle_! He had never known her in the old days, owing to
his uncomplimentary attitude toward women, but he knew of her,
of course, and of her family. It should have been said that his
plantation was about fifty miles higher up the river, and on the
opposite bank to Reine Sainte Foy. It seemed terrible. The old
gentleman had had reverses of his own, which would bear the telling,
but nothing was more shocking to him than this--that Idalie Sainte
Foy Mortemart des Islets should be teaching a public colored school
for--it makes one blush to name it--seven dollars and a half a month.
For seven dollars and a half a month to teach a set of--well! He found
out where she lived, a little cabin--not so much worse than his own,
for that matter--in the corner of a field; no companion, no servant,
nothing but food and shelter. Her clothes have been described.
Only the good God himself knows what passed in Champigny's mind on
the subject. We know only the results. He went and married _la grande
demoiselle_. How? Only the good God knows that too. Every first of the
month, when he goes to the city to buy provisions, he takes her with
him--in fact, he takes her everywhere with him.
Passengers on the railroad know them well, and they always have a
chance to see her face.
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