Françoise now suddenly braced herself up, standing on the top of the loaded cart. She looked very tall and sturdy and vigorous, almost as if she had sprung into life and grown up there where she was standing, and as if that scent of rich fecundity had emanated from herself. As she stood there with her hands resting on her hips, and her bosom swelling roundly, she looked a real woman.
"There, there, uncle, that's enough!" she said. "I've told you already that we don't want to have anything to do with all that squabbling. And, while we are on the subject, perhaps you would do as well not to come here again."
"Do you mean to cast me off, then?" asked the old man, trembling as he spoke.
Jean now thought it time to interpose.
"No; but we don't want to be mixed up in any quarrels. There would be a three days' row if they were to see you here. Every one has his own peace and quietness to look after, you know."
Fouan stood motionless, gazing at them one after the other out of his poor dim eyes. Then he went away.
"If ever I want any help," he said, "it is clear I shall have to look somewhere else for it."
They allowed him to go away, though they felt uneasy and troubled. They were not yet evil-hearted. But what could they do? They could not have helped him by interfering in the matter, and their own peace and quietness would have been ruined to no purpose. While Jean went off to get his whip, Françoise carefully collected the fallen straws with a shovel and threw them on to the cart.
The next day there was a violent scene between Fouan and Buteau. Every day, indeed, there were bitter passages between them about the papers, the old man doggedly repeating his "Give me them back again!" and the son refusing to do so, with his "Hold your row, and let me alone!" But matters had gradually grown more serious, especially since the old man had set about trying to discover where his son had hidden the bonds. He now, in his turn, prowled inquisitively about the whole house, examining drawers and closets, and tapping against the walls to see if he could discover any hollow place. His eyes were continually straying from one spot to another, in the one fixed idea that had seized hold of him; and as soon as ever he found himself free from observation, he got rid of the children and recommenced his search, with all the eagerness of some young scapegrace who flies off to make love to the servant-maid as soon as his parents are out of the way. That day, however, Buteau returned home unexpectedly, and found Fouan stretched on the floor on his stomach, with his nose under the chest of drawers, trying to ascertain if there were any possible hiding-place there. The sight almost put Buteau beside himself, for his father was unpleasantly warm in his scent now. What he was seeking below was hidden away above, sealed down, as it were, by the heavy weight of the marble slab.
"You confounded old addle-pate; so you are playing the snake now? Get up at once!"