"M.

Fille's cook says they cure a rasping throat." With that shot, Virginie Poucette whipped up her horses and drove on.
She did not hear what Mere Langlois called after her, for Mere Langlois had been slow to recover from the unexpected violence dealt by one whom she had always bullied.
"Poor Jean Jacques!" said Virginie Poucette to herself as her horses ate up the ground.

"That's another bit of bad luck.

He'll not sleep to-night.

Ah, the poor Jean Jacques--and all alone--not a hand to hold; no one to rumple that shaggy head of his or pat him on the back! His wife and Ma'm'selle Zoe, they didn't know a good thing when they had it.
No, he'll not sleep to-night-ah, my dear Jean Jacques!".