Sons of the Soil. Honore de Balzac

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СКАЧАТЬ know how to attend to business, Charles; and the proof is that if you will get me out of the kitchen the remains of the breakfast and a bottle or two of Spanish wine, I’ll tell you something which will save you from a ‘foul.’”

      “Tell me, and Francois shall get Monsieur’s own order to give you a glass of wine,” said the groom.

      “Promise?”

      “I promise.”

      “Well then, I know you meet my granddaughter Catherine under the bridge of the Avonne. Godain is in love with her; he saw you, and he is fool enough to be jealous, – I say fool, for a peasant oughtn’t to have feelings which belong only to rich folks. If you go to the ball of Soulanges at Tivoli and dance with her, you’ll dance higher than you’ll like. Godain is rich and dangerous; he is capable of breaking your arm without your getting a chance to arrest him.”

      “That would be too dear; Catherine is a fine girl, but she is not worth all that,” replied Charles. “Why should Godain be so angry? others are not.”

      “He loves her enough to marry her.”

      “If he does, he’ll beat her,” said Charles.

      “I don’t know about that,” said the old man. “She takes after her mother, against whom Tonsard never raised a finger, – he’s too afraid she’ll be off, hot foot. A woman who knows how to hold her own is mighty useful. Besides, if it came to fisticuffs with Catherine, Godain, though he’s pretty strong, wouldn’t give the last blow.”

      “Well, thank you, Pere Fourchon; here’s forty sous to drink my health in case I can’t get you the sherry.”

      Pere Fourchon turned his head aside as he pocketed the money lest Charles should see the expression of amusement and sarcasm which he was unable to repress.

      “Catherine,” he resumed, “is a proud minx; she likes sherry. You had better tell her to go and get it at Les Aigues.”

      Charles looked at Pere Fourchon with naive admiration, not suspecting the eager interest the general’s enemies took in slipping one more spy into the chateau.

      “The general ought to feel happy now,” continued Fourchon; “the peasants are all quiet. What does he say? Is he satisfied with Sibilet?”

      “It is only Monsieur Michaud who finds fault with Sibilet. They say he’ll get him sent away.”

      “Professional jealousy!” exclaimed Fourchon. “I’ll bet you would like to get rid of Francois and take his place.”

      “Hang it! he has twelve hundred francs wages,” said Charles; “but they can’t send him off, – he knows the general’s secrets.”

      “Just as Madame Michaud knows the countess’s,” remarked Fourchon, watching the other carefully. “Look here, my boy, do you know whether Monsieur and Madame have separate rooms?”

      “Of course; if they didn’t, Monsieur wouldn’t be so fond of Madame.”

      “Is that all you know?” said Fourchon.

      As they were now before the kitchen windows nothing more was said.

      CHAPTER V. ENEMIES FACE TO FACE

      While breakfast was in progress at the chateau, Francois, the head footman, whispered to Blondet, but loud enough for the general to overhear him, —

      “Monsieur, Pere Fourchon’s boy is here; he says they have caught the otter, and wants to know if you would like it, or whether they shall take it to the sub-prefect at Ville-aux-Fayes.”

      Emile Blondet, though himself a past-master of hoaxing, could not keep his cheeks from blushing like those of a virgin who hears an indecorous story of which she knows the meaning.

      “Ha! ha! so you have hunted the otter this morning with Pere Fourchon?” cried the general, with a roar of laughter.

      “What is it?” asked the countess, uneasy at her husband’s laugh.

      “When a man of wit and intelligence is taken in by old Fourchon,” continued the general, “a retired cuirassier need not blush for having hunted that otter; which bears an enormous resemblance to the third posthorse we are made to pay for and never see.” With that he went off into further explosions of laughter, in the midst of which he contrived to say: “I am not surprised you had to change your boots – and your trousers; I have no doubt you have been wading! The joke didn’t go as far as that with me, – I stayed on the bank; but then, you know, you are so much more intelligent than I – ”

      “But you forget,” interrupted Madame de Montcornet, “that I do not know what you are talking of.”

      At these words, said with some pique, the general grew serious, and Blondet told the story of his fishing for the otter.

      “But if they really have an otter,” said the countess, “those poor people are not to blame.”

      “Oh, but it is ten years since an otter has been seen about here,” said the pitiless general.

      “Monsieur le comte,” said Francois, “the boy swears by all that’s sacred that he has got one.”

      “If they have one I’ll buy it,” said the general.

      “I don’t suppose,” remarked the Abbe Brossette, “that God has condemned Les Aigues to never have otters.”

      “Ah, Monsieur le cure!” cried Blondet, “if you bring the Almighty against me – ”

      “But what is all this? Who is here?” said the countess, hastily.

      “Mouche, madame, – the boy who goes about with old Fourchon,” said the footman.

      “Bring him in – that is, if Madame will allow it?” said the general; “he may amuse you.”

      Mouche presently appeared, in his usual state of comparative nudity. Beholding this personification of poverty in the middle of this luxurious dining-room, the cost of one panel of which would have been a fortune to the bare-legged, bare-breasted, and bare-headed child, it was impossible not to be moved by an impulse of charity. The boy’s eyes, like blazing coals, gazed first at the luxuries of the room, and then at those on the table.

      “Have you no mother?” asked Madame de Montcornet, unable otherwise to explain the child’s nakedness.

      “No, ma’am; m’ma died of grief for losing p’pa, who went to the army in 1812 without marrying her with papers, and got frozen, saving your presence. But I’ve my Grandpa Fourchon, who is a good man, – though he does beat me bad sometimes.”

      “How is it, my dear, that such wretched people can be found on your estate?” said the countess, looking at the general.

      “Madame la comtesse,” said the abbe, “in this district we have none but voluntary paupers. Monsieur le comte does all he can; but we have to do with a class of persons who are without religion and who have but one idea, that of living at your expense.”

      “But, my dear abbe,” said Blondet, “you are here to improve their morals.”

      “Monsieur,” СКАЧАТЬ