It would not be a permanent security against the future, but it would suffice for the moment.

It was a rest-place on the road.

If the worst came to the worst, there was his grand-daughter and his dear son-in-law whom he so seldom saw--blood was thicker than water, and he would see to it that it was not thinned by neglect.
Meanwhile he ogled Palass Poucette's widow with one eye, and talked softly with his tongue to Mere Langlois, as he importuned Madame to "Sip the good cordial in the name of charity to all and malice towards none." "You're a bad man--you, and I want none of your cordials," was Mere Langlois's response.

"Malice towards none, indeed! If you and the devil started business in the same street, you'd make him close up shop in a year.

I've got your measure, for sure; I have you certain as an arm and a pair of stirrups." "I go about doing good--only good," returned the old sinner with a leer at the young widow, whose fingers he managed to press unseen, as he swung the little bottle of cordial before the eyes of Mere Langlois.
He was not wholly surprised when Palass Poucette's widow did not show abrupt displeasure at his bold familiarity.
A wild thought flashed into his mind.