The waiter was a jack at all trades; he cultivated Socquard's vines, swept out the cafe and the billiard-room, kept the garden in order, and watered the Tivoli, all for fifty francs a year.He was always without a jacket, except on grand occasions; usually his sole garments were a pair of blue linen trousers, heavy shoes, and a striped velvet waistcoat, over which he wore an apron of homespun linen when at work in the cafe or billiard-room.This apron, with strings, was the badge of his functions.The fellow had been hired by Socquard at the last annual fair; for in this valley, as throughout Burgundy, servants are hired in the market-place by the year, exactly as one buys horses.
"What's your name?" said Rigou.
"Michel, at your service," replied the waiter.
"Doesn't old Fourchon come here sometimes?"
"Two or three times a week, with Monsieur Vermichel, who gives me a couple of sous to warn him if his wife's after them."
"He's a fine old fellow, Pere Fourchon; knows a great deal and is full of good sense," said Rigou, paying for his lemonade and leaving the evil-smelling place when he saw Pere Socquard leading his horse round.
Just as he was about to get into the carriage, Rigou noticed the chemist crossing the square and hailed him with a "Ho, there, Monsieur Vermut!" Recognizing the rich man, Vermut hurried up.Rigou joined him, and said in a low voice:--
"Are there any drugs that can eat into the tissue of the skin so as to produce a real disease, like a whitlow on the finger, for instance?"
"If Monsieur Gourdon would help, yes," answered the little chemist.
"Vermut, not a word of all this, or you and I will quarrel; but speak of the matter to Monsieur Gourdon, and tell him to come and see me the day after to-morrow.I may be able to procure him the delicate operation of cutting off a forefinger."
Then, leaving the little man thoroughly bewildered, Rigou got into the carriole beside Marie Tonsard.
"Well, you little viper," he said, taking her by the arm when he had fastened the reins to a hook in front of the leathern apron which closed the carriole and the horse had started on a trot, "do you think you can keep Bonnebault by giving way to such violence? If you were a wise girl you would promote his marriage with that hogshead of stupidity and take your revenge afterwards."
Marie could not help smiling as she answered:--
"Ah, how bad you are! you are the master of us all in wickedness."
"Listen to me, Marie; I like the peasants, but it won't do for any one of you to come between my teeth and a mouthful of game.Your brother Nicolas, as Aglae said, is after La Pechina.That must not be; I protect her, that girl.She is to be my heiress for thirty thousand francs, and I intend to marry her well.I know that Nicolas, helped by your sister Catherine, came near killing the little thing this morning.You are to see your brother and sister at once, and say to them: 'If you let La Pechina alone, Pere Rigou will save Nicolas from the conscription.'"
"You are the devil incarnate!" cried Marie."They do say you've signed a compact with him.Is that true?"
"Yes," replied Rigou, gravely.
"I heard it, but I didn't believe it."
"He has guaranteed that no attacks aimed at me shall hurt me; that I shall never be robbed; that I shall live a hundred years and succeed in everything I undertake, and be as young to the day of my death as a two-year old cockerel--"
"Well, if that's so," said Marie, "it must be DEVILISHLY easy for you to save my brother from the conscription--"
"If he chooses, that's to say.He'll have to lose a finger," returned Rigou."I'll tell him how."
"Look out, you are taking the upper road!" exclaimed Marie.
"I never go by the lower at night," said the ex-monk.
"On account of the cross?" said Marie, naively.
"That's it, sly-boots," replied her diabolical companion.
They had reached a spot where the high-road cuts through a slight elevation of ground, making on each side of it a rather steep slope, such as we often see on the mail-roads of France.At the end of this little gorge, which is about a hundred feet long, the roads to Ronquerolles and to Cerneux meet and form an open space, in the centre of which stands a cross.From either slope a man could aim at a victim and kill him at close quarters, with all the more ease because the little hill is covered with vines, and the evil-doer could lie in ambush among the briers and brambles that overgrow them.We can readily imagine why the usurer did not take that road after dark.The Thune flows round the little hill; and the place is called the Close of the Cross.No spot was ever more adapted for revenge or murder, for the road to Ronquerolles continues to the bridge over the Avonne in front of the pavilion of the Rendezvous, while that to Cerneux leads off above the mail-road; so that between the four roads,--to Les Aigues, Ville-aux-Fayes, Ronquerolles, and Cerneux,--a murderer could choose his line of retreat and leave his pursuers in uncertainty.
"I shall drop you at the entrance of the village," said Rigou when they neared the first houses of Blangy.
"Because you are afraid of Annette, old coward!" cried Marie."When are you going to send her away? you have had her now three years.What amuses me is that your old woman still lives; the good God knows how to revenge himself."