ho has some mind, to a beauty who can't say two words."

"Ah!" said the notary, biting his lips, "but she can make others say
three."

"Puppy!" cried Rigou, as he made for the door.

"Well, then," said Soudry, following him to the portico, "to-morrow,
early."

"I'll come and fetch you--Ha! Lupin," he said to the notary, who came
out with him to order his horse, "try to make sure that Madame Sarcus
hears all the Shopman says and does against us at the Prefecture."

"If she doesn't hear it, who will?" replied Lupin.

"Excuse me," said Rigou, smiling blandly, "but there are such a lot of
ninnies in there that I forgot there was one clever man."

"The wonder is that I don't grow rusty among them," replied Lupin,
naively.

"Is it true that Soudry has hired a pretty servant?"

"Yes," replied Lupin; "for the last week our worthy mayor has set
the charms of his wife in full relief by comparing her with a little
peasant-girl about the age of an old ox; and we can't yet imagine how
he settles it with Madame Soudry, for, would you believe it, he has the
audacity to go to bed early."

"I'll find out to-morrow," said the village Sardanapalus, trying to
smile.

The two plotters shook hands as they parted.

Rigou, who did not like to be on the road after dark for,
notwithstanding his present popularity, he was cautious, called to his
horse, "Get up, Citizen,"--a joke this son of 1793 was fond of letting
fly at the Revolution. Popular revolutions have no more bitter enemies
than those they have trained themselves.

"Pere Rigou's visits are pretty short," said Gourdon the poet to Madame
Soudry.

"They are pleasant, if they are short," she answered.

"Like his own life," said the doctor; "his abuse of pleasures will cut
that short."

"So much the better," remarked Soudry, "my son will step into the
property."

"Did he bring you any news about Les Aigues?" asked the Abbe Taupin.

"Yes, my dear abbe," said Madame Soudry. "Those people are the scourge
of the neighborhood. I can't comprehend how it is that Madame de
Montcornet, who is certainly a well-bred woman, doesn't understand their
interests better."

"And yet she has a model before her eyes," said the abbe.

"Who is that?" asked Madame Soudry, smirking.

"The Soulanges."

"Ah, yes!" replied the queen after a pause.

"Here I am!" cried Madame Vermut, coming into the room; "and without
my re-active,--for Vermut is so inactive in all that concerns me that I