It was giving away your property, not his own," she hurriedly explained, and her face flushed.
"That is the Spanish of it," said Jean Jacques bitterly.

His eyes were being opened in many directions to-day.
M.Fille was in distress.

Jean Jacques had had a warning about Sebastian Dolores, but here was another pit into which he might fall, the pit digged by a widow, who, no doubt, would not hesitate to marry a divorced Catholic philosopher, if he could get a divorce by hook or by crook.
Jean Jacques had said that he was going to Virginie Poucette's place the next day.

That was as bad as it could be; yet there was this to the good, that it was to-morrow and not to-day; and who could tell what might happen between to-day and to-morrow! A moment later the three were standing outside the office in the street.
As Jean Jacques climbed into his red wagon, Virginie Poucette's eyes were attracted to the northern sky where a reddish glow appeared, and she gave an exclamation of surprise.
"That must be a fire," she said, pointing.
"A bit of pine-land probably," said M.Fille--with anxiety, however, for the red glow lay in the direction of St.Saviour's where were the Manor Cartier and Jean Jacques' mills.

Maitre Fille was possessed of a superstition that all the things which threaten a man's life to wreck it, operate awhile in their many fields before they converge like an army in one field to deliver the last attack on their victim.