ill lives; the good God knows how to
revenge himself."

CHAPTER IV. THE TRIUMVIRATE OF VILLE-AUX-FAYES

The cautious usurer compelled his wife and Jean to go to bed and to rise
by daylight; assuring them that the house would never be attacked if he
sat up till midnight, and he never himself rose till late. Not only had
he thus secured himself from interruption between seven at night and
five the next morning but he had accustomed his wife and Jean to respect
his morning sleep and that of Hagar, whose room was directly behind his.

So, on the following morning, about half past six, Madame Rigou, who
herself took care of the poultry-yard with some assistance from Jean,
knocked timidly at her husband's door.

"Monsieur Rigou," she said, "you told me to wake you."

The tones of that voice, the attitude of the woman, her frightened air
as she obeyed an order the execution of which might be ill-received,
showed the utter self-abnegation in which the poor creature lived, and
the affection she still bore to her petty tyrant.

"Very good," replied Rigou.

"Shall I wake Annette?" she asked.

"No, let her sleep; she has been up half the night," he replied,
gravely.

The man was always grave, even when he allowed himself to jest. Annette
had in fact opened the door secretly to Sibilet, Fourchon, and Catherine
Tonsard, who all came at different hours between eleven and two o'clock.

Ten minutes later Rigou, dressed with more care than usual, came
downstairs and greeted his wife with a "Good-morning, my old woman,"
which made her happier than if counts had knelt at her feet.

"Jean," he said to the ex-lay-brother, "don't leave the house; if any
one robs me it will be worse for you than for me."

By thus mingling mildness and severity, hopes and rebuffs, the clever
egoist kept his three slaves faithful and close at his heels, like dogs.

Taking the upper-road, so-called, to avoid the Close of the Cross, Rigou
reached the square of Soulanges about eight o'clock.

Just as he was fastening his rein to the post nearest the little door
with three steps, a blind opened and Soudry showed his face, pitted with
the small-pox, which the expression of his small black eyes rendered
crafty.

"Let's begin by taking a crust here before we start," he said; "we
sha'n't get breakfast at Ville-aux-Fayes before one o'clock."

Then he softly called a servant-girl, as young and pretty as Annette,
who came down noiselessly, and re