"Oh, no, no," she continued, shaking her head, "'tis not Miche Vignevielle w'at's crezzie." Her eyes lighted with sudden fierceness.

"'Tis dad _law_! Dad _law_ is crezzie! Dad law is a fool!" A priest of less heart-wisdom might have replied that the law is--the law; but Pere Jerome saw that Madame Delphine was expecting this very response.

Wherefore he said, with gentleness: "Madame Delphine, a priest is not a bailiff, but a physician.

How can I help you ?" A grateful light shone a moment in her eyes, yet there remained a piteous hostility in the tone in which she demanded: "_Mais, pou'quoi ye fe cette mechanique la ?_"-- What business had they to make that contraption?
His answer was a shrug with his palms extended and a short, disclamatory "Ah." He started to resume his walk, but turned to her again and said: "Why did they make that law?
Well, they made it to keep the two races separate." Madame Delphine startled the speaker with a loud, harsh, angry laugh.
Fire came from her eyes and her lip curled with scorn.
"Then they made a lie, Pere Jerome! Separate! No-o-o! They do not want to keep us separated; no, no! But they _do_ want to keep us despised!" She laid her hand on her heart, and frowned upward with physical pain.

"But, very well! from which race do they want to keep my daughter separate?
She is seven parts white! The law did not stop her from being that; and now, when she wants to be a white man's good and honest wife, shall that law stop her?
Oh, no!" She rose up.