Although M. Fougeroux professed to despise the nobility and the clergy, the hope of driving a good bargain made him obsequious to Louis. He insisted upon ushering his visitor into “the parlor,” with may bows and repetitions of “M. the marquis.”
Upon entering the room, he roughly ordered an old woman, who was crouching over some dying embers, to make haste and bring some wine for M. the marquis of Clameran.
At this name, the old woman started as if she had received an electric shock. She opened her mouth to say something, but a look from her tyrant froze the words upon her lips. With a frightened air she hobbled out to obey his orders, and in a few minutes returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses.
Then she resumed her seat by the fire, and kept her eyes fastened upon the marquis.
Could this really be the merry, pretty Mihonne, who had been the confidant of the little fairy of Verberie?
Valentine herself would never have recognized this poor, shrivelled, emaciated old woman.
Only those who are familiar with country life know what hard work and worry can do to make a woman old.
The bargain, meanwhile, was being discussed between Joseph and Fougeroux, who offered a ridiculously small sum for the chateau, saying that he would only buy it to tear down, and sell the materials. Joseph enumerated the beams, joists, ashlars, and the iron-work, and volubly praised the old domain.
As for Mihonne, the presence of the marquis had a wonderful effect upon her.
If the faithful servant had hitherto never breathed the secret confided to her probity, it was none the less heavy for her to bear.