The Abbé fixed his eyes upon the old woman, as though he were trying to guess the real meaning of this sudden manifestation of distress.
'I have just seen some one whom I would rather not name,' she continued, returning the Abbé's glance. 'This person has quite alarmed me. God knows that I don't want to do anything to injure my son-in-law! But it is my duty—is it not?—to defend my daughter's interests. Well, my son-in-law is a wretch; he ill-treats his wife, he scandalises the whole town, and mixes himself up in all sorts of dirty affairs. You will see that he will also compromise himself in political matters when the elections come on. The last time it was he who put himself at the head of the riff-raff of the suburbs. It will kill me, your reverence!'
'Monsieur Mouret would not allow anybody to make remarks to him about his conduct,' the Abbé at last ventured to say.
'But I can't abandon my daughter to such a man!' cried Madame Rougon. 'I will not allow it that we should be dishonoured. Justice is not made for dogs.'
Trouche, who was swaying himself about, took advantage of a momentary pause to exclaim:
'Monsieur Mouret is mad!'
The words seemed to fall with all the force of a blow from a club, and everybody looked at the speaker.
'I mean that he has a weak head,' continued Trouche. 'You've only got to look at his eyes. I may tell you that I don't feel particularly easy myself. There was a man at Besançon who adored his daughter, but he murdered her one night without knowing what he was doing.'
'The master has been cracked for a long time past,' said Rose.
'But this is frightful!' cried Madame Rougon. 'Really, I fear you may be right. The last time I saw him he had a most extraordinary expression on his face. He never had very sharp wits. Ah! my poor dear, promise to confide everything to me. I shall not be able to sleep quietly after this. Listen to me now; at the first sign of any extravagant conduct on your husband's part, don't hesitate, don't run any further risk—madmen must be placed in confinement.'