"What would you do?"
"I don't know; but money makes everything smooth with people of Père Cardonnet's cut. Suppose you should set him up in some business and sacrifice a few hundred thousand francs—you who have three or four millions and no children! He isn't so rich as he seems to be! Perhaps he may have more income than you, but his capital is smaller, I fancy."
"So you would approve of buying his son's liberty?"
"There are some people who never give anything away, and who sell what they ought to give away. Why, by the blood of the devil, here we are in the pond! Stop! stop! that isn't land, it's water. We have gone too far to the right; but our brains are not fuddled by wine. How are we to get out of this?"
"I have no idea; we have been walking a long while, and we ought to be at Boisguilbault."
"Wait! wait! I know where I am," said the carpenter. "There's a little clearing behind us with one big tree—wait for the flash and look sharp—there it comes! Yes, I know. There's Mère Marlot's house! The devil! There are sick children there—two have typhoid fever, they say! Never mind, she's a good woman, and at all events you are sure of being well received anywhere on your estates."
"Yes, this woman is a tenant of mine if I am not mistaken."
"Who doesn't pay you very much or very often, I fancy! Come, give me your hand."
"I didn't know that her children were sick," said the marquis as they entered the yard in front of the hovel.
"That's natural enough; you seldom go out and never so far as this. But other people have looked after her. See! there's a horse and wagon that I know; they may be of use to us."