“What do you want with me?” growled Chupin; “for you do want something, or you wouldn’t trouble yourself about a man like me.”
The old ruffian’s manner was so surly and aggressive that Blanche needed all her strength of mind to carry out her purpose. “Yes, it is true that I have a favour to ask you,” she replied, in a resolute tone.
“Ah, ha! I supposed so.”
“A mere trifle which will cost you no trouble, and for which you shall be well paid.” She said this so carelessly that an ordinary person would have supposed she was really asking for some unimportant service; but cleverly as she played her part, Chupin was not deceived.
“No one asks trifling services of a man like me,” he said coarsely. “Since I served the good cause, at the peril of my life, people seem to suppose they’ve a right to come to me with money in their hands whenever they want any dirty work done. It’s true that I was well paid for that other job; but I would like to melt all the gold and pour it down the throats of those who gave it to me. Ah! I know now what it costs the poor to listen to the words of the great! Go your way; and if you have any wickedness in your head, do it yourself!”
He shouldered his gun and was moving off, when Blanche coldly observed: “It was because I knew of your wrongs that I stopped you; I thought you would be glad to serve me, because I hate the Sairmeuses like you do.”
These words excited the old poacher’s interest, and he paused. “I know very well that you hate the Sairmeuses now—but—”
“But what?”
“Why, in less than a month you will be reconciled. And then that old wretch, Chupin—”
“We shall never be reconciled.”