“And yet my idea is clear enough, M. l’Abbé. I do not intend the Brécés to laugh up their sleeve at me, that’s what I’m driving at.”
“Pray explain yourself!”
“Well, M. l’Abbé, just imagine being planted down on the Carrefour du Roi, together with the village doctor, the wife of the Chief of Police, and M. Irvoy’s head clerk! No, such a situation is not to be thought of for one moment. But if I wear the Hunt badge, I can follow the hounds, and, although I may look a bit off colour sometimes, I’ll soon show them whether I can ride or not. Now you can get me what I want, M. l’Abbé; the Brécés will not refuse you anything. All you have to do is to ask it in the name of Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles.”
“I beg of you, my child, not to bring Notre-Dame-des-Belles-Feuilles into such a matter, which cannot interest her in the very slightest. The miraculous Virgin of Brécé has enough to do in answering the prayers of widows and orphans, not to mention those of our brave soldiers in Madagascar. But, my dear Ernest, is there really so much to be gained by the possession of this badge? Is it then such a precious talisman? No doubt strange privileges are attached to its possession. Tell me all about them. I am far from despising the noble and ancient art of hunting, for I belong to the clergy of an eminently sporting diocese, and would be glad of any information on the subject.”
“You do amuse me, M. l’Abbé, and I know you must be joking. You know as well as I do what is understood by the Hunt badge: it is the right to wear the colours of any particular hunt. I am going to speak frankly to you; I am candid, because I can afford to be so. I want to be made a member of the Brécé Hunt, because it is the correct thing, and I like to be in the swim. I want it because I am a snob and a vain man. I also want it because it would amuse me to dine with the Brécés on St. Hubert’s Day. The Brécé badge would be just about my mark. I want it very badly, and I’m not going to disguise the fact. I have no false shame—no shame of any kind, for the matter of that. Listen to me, M. l’Abbé, I have something of great importance to say to you. You must understand that in broaching the subject to the Duc de Brécé, you will only be claiming what is my due; you understand—my due! I have property round here; I do not shoot the deer; I let people hunt and kill on my estates, all of which deserves both consideration and gratitude. M. de Brécé is really under obligations to his kind little neighbour Ernest.”
The Abbé said nothing. It was evident that he did not like the idea, and was prepared to refuse to do what was asked of him. Young Bonmont went on:
“I need hardly say, M. l’Abbé, that, in case the Brécés demand a price in return for the privilege, I should not stick at such a trifle.”
M. l’Abbé Guitrel made a movement of protest.
“Banish that supposition, my son! It ill accords with the character of the Duc de Brécé.”
“That may be, M. l’Abbé. Whether it be given or sold, depends upon the owner’s ideas and the state of his banking account. Some packs cost the master 80,000 francs a year; others bring him in as much as 30,000 francs a year. In saying this I am not in any way blaming the man who expects people to pay for their privileges. Personally, I should prefer to do so, indeed, I consider it only fair. Then there are districts where hunting costs so much, that the master, even if he is a rich man, cannot keep things going alone. Just suppose for instance, M. l’Abbé, that you kept a pack in the neighbourhood of Paris. Can you see yourself meeting all expenses and finding your purse sufficient to pay the heavy claims entailed? But I think I have heard that the Brécé badge is not to be bought with money. The Duke hasn’t the gumption to make a profit out of his pack. Well, M. l’Abbé, you will get it for me, gratis and for nothing! It will all be so much to the good.”