Observing that all the worst characters of the neighborhood were collecting, Pere Niseron shook his head and left the tavern, after offering a farthing to Madame Tonsard in payment for his glass of wine.When the worthy man had gone down the steps a movement of relief and satisfaction passed through the assembled drinkers which would have told whoever watched them that each man in that company felt he was rid of the living image of his own conscience.
"Well, what do you say to all that, hey, Courtecuisse?" asked Vaudoyer, who had just come in, and to whom Tonsard had related Vatel's attempt.
Courtecuisse clacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and set his glass on the table.
"Vatel put himself in the wrong," he said."If I were Mother Tonsard, I'd give myself a few wounds and go to bed and say I was ill, and have that Shopman and his keeper up before the assizes and get twenty crowns damages.Monsieur Sarcus would give them."
"In any case the Shopman would give them to stop the talk it would make," said Godain.
Vaudoyer, the former field-keeper, a man five feet six inches tall, with a face pitted with the small-pox and furrowed like a nut-cracker, kept silence with a hesitating air.
"Well, you old ninny, does that ruffle you?" asked Tonsard, attracted by the idea of damages."If they had broken twenty crowns' worth of my mother's bones we could turn it into good account; we might make a fine fuss for three hundred francs; Monsieur Gourdon would go to Les Aigues and tell them that the mother had got a broken hip--"
"And break it, too," interrupted Madame Tonsard; "they do that in Paris."
"It would cost too much," remarked Godain.
"I have been too long among the people who rule us to believe that matters will go as you want them," said Vaudoyer at last, remembering his past official intercourse with the courts and the gendarmerie."If it were at Soulanges, now, it might be done; Monsieur Soudry represents the government there, and he doesn't wish well to the Shopman; but if you attack the Shopman and Vatel they'll defend themselves viciously; they'll say, 'The woman was to blame; she had a tree, otherwise she would have let her bundle be examined on the highroad; she wouldn't have run away; if an accident happened to her it was through her own fault.' No, you can't trust to that plan."
"The Shopman didn't resist when I sued him," said Courtecuisse; "he paid me at once."
"I'll go to Soulanges, if you like," said Bonnebault, "and consult Monsieur Gourdon, the clerk of the court, and you shall know to-night if THERE'S MONEY IN IT."
"You are only making an excuse to be after that big goose of a girl, Socquard's daughter," said Marie Tonsard, giving Bonnebault a slap on the shoulder that made his lungs hum.
Just then a verse of an old Burgundian Christmas carol was heard:--
"One fine moment of his life Was at the wedding feast;
He changed the water into wine,--
Madeira of the best."
Every one recognized the vinous voice of old Fourchon, to whom the verse must have been peculiarly agreeable; Mouche accompanied in his treble tones.
"Ha! they're full!" cried old Mother Tonsard to her daughter-in-law;
"your father is as red as a grid-iron, and that chip o' the block as pink as vine-shoot."
"Your healths!" cried the old man, "and a fine lot of scoundrels you are! All hail!" he said to his granddaughter, whom he spied kissing Bonnebault, "hail, Marie, full of vice! Satan is with three; cursed art thou among women, etcetera.All hail, the company present! you are done for, every one of you! you may just say good-bye to your sheaves.
I being news.I always told you the rich would crush us; well now, the Shopman is going to have the law of you! Ha! see what it is to struggle against those bourgeois fellows, who have made so many laws since they got into power that they've a law to enforce every trick they play--"
A violent hiccough gave a sudden turn to the ideas of the distinguished orator.
"If Vermichel were only here I'd blow in his gullet, and he'd get an idea of sherry wine.Hey! what a wine it is! If I wasn't a Burgundian I'd be a Spaniard! It's God's own wine! the pope says mass with it--
Hey! I'm young again! Say, Courtecuisse! if your wife were only here we'd be young together.Don't tell me! Spanish wine is worth a dozen of boiled wine.Let's have a revolution if it's only to empty the cellars!"
"But what's your news, papa?" said Tonsard.
"There'll be no harvest for you; the Shopman has given orders to stop the gleaning."
"Stop the gleaning!" cried the whole tavern, with one voice, in which the shrill tones of the four women predominated.
"Yes," said Mouche, "he is going to issue an order, and Groison is to take it round, and post it up all over the canton.No one is to glean except those who have pauper certificates."
"And what's more," said Fourchon, "the folks from the other districts won't be allowed here at all."
"What's that?" cried Bonnebault, "do you mean to tell me that neither my grandmother nor I, nor your mother, Godain, can come here and glean? Here's tomfoolery for you; a pretty show of authority! Why, the fellow is a devil let loose from hell,--that scoundrel of a mayor!"
"Shall you glean whether or no, Godain?" said Tonsard to the journeyman wheelwright, who was saying a few words to Catherine.
"I? I've no property; I'm a pauper," he replied; "I shall ask for a certificate."
"What did they give my father for his otter, bibi?" said Madame Tonsard to Mouche.
Though nearly at his last gasp from an over-taxed digestion and two bottles of wine, Mouche, sitting on Madame Tonsard's lap, laid his head on his aunt's neck and whispered slyly in her ear:--
"I don't know, but he has got gold.If you'll feed me high for a month, perhaps I can find out his hiding-place; he has one, I know that."
"Father's got gold!" whispered La Tonsard to her husband, whose voice was loudest in the uproar of the excited discussion, in which all present took part.
"Hush! here's Groison," cried the old sentinel.