bishop of Riviere-du-Loup?'
Bishop Pascal had no ear for irony. Colonel Quigley did. One of his eyebrows quirked upward. 'It is a matter concerning the hospital,' he said.
'What about the hospital?' Galtier demanded, suddenly apprehensive. He saw Marie peering out the kitchen window, no doubt wondering what was going on. He'd been about to ask Quigley and Bishop Pascal to come into the farmhouse so she could serve them tea-or something stronger-and some of the cinnamon buns she'd baked the day before. Now, he was not nearly so sure they were welcome in his house.
'The hospital, of course, is built on land taken from your patrimony,' Bishop Pascal said. The plump bishop always looked out for himself first. He had embraced the Americans with indecent haste. Galtier would not have cared to turn his back on him for an instant. But he did understand the way a Quebecois farmer's mind worked.
Colonel Quigley, despite having been in Quebec since 1914, didn't. 'And we've been paying you a good rent for it, too,' he said gruffly.
'It is my land,' Galtier replied with dignity. 'And'-his own eyebrow rose-'for some long stretch of time, you paid not a cent of rent. You simply took it, because you had men with guns.'
'We suspected your loyalty.' Quigley was blunt in a way no Quebecois would have been. 'Once we didn't any more, we paid what we owed you.'
'If you steal land from a man's patrimony, you are liable to make him disloyal,' Galtier said. 'Indeed, you are fortunate this did not happen with me.' He still marveled that it hadn't. He'd been disloyal after the Americans invaded Quebec. He clearly remembered that. But Nicole had gone to work at the hospital, she and Leonard O'Doull had fallen in love, Quigley had agreed to pay rent, and the Americans had not treated him so badly after all. He'd thrived since they came. Quebec had prospered, too. And he had a half-American grandson. Sure enough, he was at peace with Americans now.
Bishop Pascal said, 'Naturally, my son, you can comprehend that it is awkward for this fine hospital to rest on land where, if the owner so desires, he may, at a whim, order it to leave so he might seed the soil with lettuces.'
'Lettuces?' Galtier said. 'Certainly not. That is wheat land, and wheat land of the first quality, I might add.'
Jedediah Quigley seemed to need both hands to hold on to his patience. 'Whatever you raised on it is beside the point,' he said. 'The point is, the Republic of Quebec wants to buy that land from you, so no troubles of the sort Bishop Pascal is talking about can arise. I'm involved here because I am the one who took that land from you in the first place.'
'You wish me to sell part of my patrimony?' Galtier knew he sounded as if Colonel Quigley had asked him to sell one of his children. He didn't care. That was how he felt-even if, at times, he wouldn't have minded getting rid of Georges.
'Money can be part of your patrimony, too,' Quigley said, which only proved he did not completely understand the folk of Quebec.
'It would be an act of Christian charity, for the sake of the people of Riviere-du-Loup and the surrounding countryside,' Bishop Pascal said. 'And, unlike most acts of charity, my son, it would not only be good for your soul but would bring money into your pocket rather than having it flow out.'
'And not just money,' Colonel Quigley added. 'You know the hospital makes its own electricity. As part of the bargain, we would have the hospital make electricity for this farm as well.'
They were eager to make a deal. They were showing how eager they were. Against a canny peasant like Lucien Galtier, they were begging to be skinned. He knew now, he would sell the land. Marie would skin him if he let the chance to get electricity escape. But he intended to make the bishop and the colonel sweat first. 'It is my patrimony,' he growled. 'One day, my grandson's grandson will grow wheat on that land.'
Colonel Quigley rolled his eyes. 'Damn stubborn frog,' he muttered under his breath in English. Galtier smiled. He didn't think he was supposed to hear, or to understand if he did. Too bad, he thought. He was a damn stubborn frog, and they would have to make the best of it.
'My son, have you not seen in these past few years how things can change, and change unexpectedly and quickly?' Bishop Pascal asked. 'Would you not like to see this change be for the better?'
'By better, your Grace, you mean doing as you wish.' Galtier did not want to lose the chance he had here. Gruffly, grudgingly. he said, 'Very well. Let us speak of this further, since you insist. Come inside. We may as well sit down.'
When he brought them into the farmhouse, Marie fussed over them, as he'd known she would. Once she had them settled with tea and buns, she asked, 'How is it that we have such distinguished visitors?'
Before either visitor could speak, Lucien kept right on growling: 'They seek to purchase some of our patrimony. Along with money, they even offer electricity/9 He curled his lip, as if to show how little he cared for electricity. 'They do not comprehend the importance of a man's patrimony.'
'Mme. Galtier, I am sure you can make your husband see reason here,' Colonel Quigley said.
'I leave these matters to him. He is the man, after all,' Marie said primly. A single flashing glance toward Galtier sent quite another message, but neither Quigley nor Bishop Pascal saw it. After that glance, Marie retreated to the kitchen.
In tones of gentle reason, Bishop Pascal said, 'You have not even inquired what the Republic and the United States-we will share the expense, our two countries-might pay for your parcel of land.'
'You haven't said what you want for it, either,' Quigley said.
'I have not said I would take any amount of money for it,' Galtier replied. 'But, if you must, you may name a price.' Quigley had invited him to set his own price when he'd started getting rent for the land on which the hospital stood. He'd named the highest price he dared, and Quigley had paid without a blink. Lucien knew he could have gone higher, but not how much. This time… If Quigley mentioned any sum less than five hundred dollars, maybe he really wouldn't sell the piece of property.
'The United States are prepared to pay you one thousand dollars for that tract, M. Galtier,' Colonel Quigley said.
'And the Republic of Quebec will add one thousand dollars to that sum,' Bishop Pascal put in.
Galtier's ears rang. Two thousand dollars? And electricity? 'You are not serious,' he said, meaning he could not believe they would pay so much.
Thanks to his bold front, Bishop Pascal and Quigley thought he meant they weren't offering enough. The American looked sour, the bishop piously resigned. Colonel Quigley said, 'Oh, very well, then. Fifteen hundred from us, another fifteen hundred from the Republic, and not a dime more.'
Three thousand dollars? Lucien could buy a motorcar. He could buy a tractor. He would be a man to reckon with for miles around. He smiled at his guests. 'Two thousand dollars from the United States, another two from the Republic, and not a dime less.'
Colonel Quigley and Bishop Pascal both looked alarmed. Galtier felt alarmed-had he pushed it too far? The bishop and Quigley put their heads together. After a couple of minutes, Bishop Pascal said, 'In the interest of concord, we will split the difference with you-one thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars from Quebec and a like amount from the United States. Is it agreeable to you?'
'And electricity?' Galtier demanded.
'And electricity,' Colonel Quigley said. 'I told you that beforehand.'
'It is better to have everything certain than to leave anything in doubt.' Galtier sighed with reluctance he did not feel. 'Very well. Let it be as you say. For one thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars from each of your governments-and electricity-I will sell this land, but only, mind you, in the interest of concord, as the holy bishop says.'
'God will surely bless you, my son,' Bishop Pascal said, beaming.
'Do you think so?' Lucien said interestedly. 'That would be good, too.'
Bishop Pascal didn't know what to make of that. He scratched his head. Colonel Quigley knew exactly what to make of it. He looked even more sour than he had while they were dickering. Why should he care? Galtier thought. It isn 't his money However sour Quigley looked, the bargain was sealed. The money would be Galtier's-soon, he hoped.
Edna Semphroch came back into the coffeehouse. Nellie Jacobs gave her daughter an unhappy look, even
