He told this story in a whining tone, and every moment he interrupted himself to affirm his repentance and to cover himself with reproaches.
“Old drunkard!” he said, “this will teach you——”
But these protestations, far from reassuring Mme. Blanche, made her still more suspicious,
“All this is very well, Father Chupin,” she said, dryly, “but what are you going to do now to repair your negligence?”
“What do I intend to do?” he exclaimed, feigning the most violent anger. “Oh! you will see. I will prove that no one can deceive me with impunity. Near the Borderie is a small grove. I shall station myself there; and may the devil seize me if a cat enters that house unbeknown to me.”
Mme. Blanche drew her purse from her pocket, and taking out three louis, she gave them to Chupin, saying:
“Take these, and be more careful in future. Another blunder like this, and I shall be compelled to ask the aid of some other person.”
The old poacher went away, whistling quite reassured; but he was wrong. The lady’s generosity was only intended to allay his suspicions.
And why should she not suppose he had betrayed her—this miserable wretch, who made it his business to betray others? What reason had she for placing any confidence in his reports? She paid him! Others, by paying him more, would certainly have the preference!
But how could she ascertain what she wished to know? Ah! she saw but one way—a very disagreeable, but a sure way. She, herself, would play the spy.