The mayor, hurt by his assessor taking matters into his own hands, concluded: "There is no need for any change. The council has already decided. Now about our road. We must make an end of it. Delhomme, pray have the goodness to call in Monsieur Lequeu. Does the fellow imagine that we are going to discuss his letter all day long?"
Lequeu, who had been waiting on the stairs, came in gravely, and as they did not apprise him of the fate of his request, he remained snappish and restless, swelling with covert insult. What a contemptible set of men these peasants were! However, he had to take the map of the road out of the cupboard and spread it out on the table.
The council knew the map well. It had been hanging about for years. But none the less they all approached, elbowing one another, and deliberating once more. The mayor enumerated the advantages which Rognes would derive. The gentleness of the slope would allow vehicles to drive up to the church. Then two leagues would be gained on the road to Châteaudun, which now passed through Cloyes. And the village would only have to pay the cost of some two miles of the road, their Blangy neighbours having already voted the remaining bit, as far as the junction with the highway from Châteaudun to Orleans. They listened to him with their eyes fixed steadfastly on the paper, and never opening their mouths. What had especially prevented the plan from coming to a head was the indemnity question. Every one saw a fortune to be made out of this road, and was anxious to know if one of his fields would be required, and if he would be able to sell it to the village at the rate of a hundred francs a perch. But supposing their own fields were not encroached upon, why on earth should they vote for the enrichment of others? A deal they cared about the gentle slope or the shorter route! Their horses would have to pull a bit harder, that was all!
So Hourdequin had no need to make them talk to learn their opinions. He only desired the road so eagerly because it would run past the farm and several of his fields. In the same way Macqueron and Delhomme, whose land would border the road, were in favour of the vote. That made three; but neither Clou nor the other councillor had any interest in the question; and as for Lengaigne, he was violently opposed to the project, having in the first place nothing to gain by it, and being also aggrieved that his rival, the assessor, should reap any advantage by it. If Clou and the doubtful one voted on the wrong side there would be three against three, so Hourdequin became anxious. At last the discussion began.
"What's the good? what's the good of it?" repeated Lengaigne. "We've a road already, haven't we? It's just the pleasure of spending money, taking it out of Jean's pocket to put it in Pierre's. Now, there's you! You promised to give your ground up for nothing!"
This was a slap at Macqueron, who, bitterly regretting his fit of generosity, gave the lie direct.
"I never promised anything! Who told you that?"
"Who? Why, confound it! you did! Before people, too! Why, Monsieur Lequeu was there, he can tell us. Wasn't it so, Monsieur Lequeu?"
The schoolmaster, angered at not being told his fate, made a coarse gesture of contempt. What were their beastly disputes to him?
"Oh, all right!" resumed Lengaigne. "If people can't be open and honest, we'd better live in the woods! No, no, I'll have nothing to do with your road! A piece of jobbery!"