Percier was astounded.
“Surely you are speaking of Bruno,” said Jacques at length.
“Was it, then, Bruno who embraced Catherine in the walnut grove?”
Ashamed of his stupidity, Suzanne’s husband remained silent for a moment, and then essayed to repair his mistake. But Savin, refusing to listen to his ridiculous explanations, turned angrily away and took the nearest path for his home.
“There are beasts that never ought to open their mouths,” growled Andoche, as soon as Savin was out of hearing.
“You mean me?” inquired Jacques.
“No—oh, no. I mean Napoleon I., of course.”
“Well, how did I know that everybody was in love with his wife, eh?”
“There will be a great scene when he reaches home, and you will be the cause, you simpleton. Mon Dieu! That man told the truth who said that the wicked are less to be feared than fools, because they sometimes keep quiet, while fools never do.”
Barrau took long strides, and he breathed as with difficulty. If he had encountered Catherine at that moment, a terrible catastrophe might have been the result. His mind, travelling faster than his limbs, was occupied with reflections that may be summarized thus: “What effrontery! In open daylight to caress a blackguard like that Bruno. They were right in predicting that I should repent of my contract. The coquette! But is it true? Bah! What interest would he have in making up such a story? But perhaps he did not really see it. Perhaps—but no! Jacques is not a liar. Oh, miserable woman! To make herself the laughing-stock of the whole country. But who knows?”