The violent and impetuous character of the baron was so well known that his calmness and self-possession inspired as much admiration as astonishment.
Peyrou, addressing the old lord, said, in a solemn tone:
“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, what have you to reply to the plaintiff? Do you accept his requisitions from you as just and fair?”
“Syndic and overseers,” replied the baron, bowing respectfully, “yes, that is true. I have had my nets laid outside of the Seven Rocks of Oastrembaou, but, in order to explain my act, I will state that which all of you know.”
“Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez, we are not in this suit,” said Peyrou, gravely.
In spite of his self-control and his affection for the watchman, the old gentleman bit his lip, but soon regained his calmness and said:
“I will say to you, syndic and overseers, what every one knows: for several years the sea has fallen to such a degree that the part of the cove in which I had the right to fish has become dry. The sea broom has pushed its way there to the utmost, and my greyhound Eclair started a hare there the other day; honestly, syndic and overseers, to make any use of the part of the cove which belongs to me, I should need, now, horses and guns, instead of boats and nets.”
The baron’s reply, delivered with his usual good humour, amused the crowd; even the overseers could not repress a smile.
The baron continued:
“The retreat of the sea has been so great that there is hardly six feet of water in the spot around the Seven Rocks, where my fishing-place ends and that of the community begins. I have believed I had the right to lay my nets and my seines five hundred steps beyond the Seven Rocks, since there was no more water on this side, supposing that the community, following my example, and the movement of the water, would also advance five hundred steps toward the high sea.”