He was going to say something else, but he did not like the look the Cure turned on him, and he broke off short.
"Do you regret that he gave Lacasse good advice?" asked the Cure.
"It's taking bread out of other men's mouths."
"It put bread into Filion's mouth. Did you ever give Lacasse advice?
The truth now, Dauphin!" said the Seigneur drily.
"Yes, Monsieur, and sound advice too, within the law-precedent and code and every legal fact behind." The Seigneur was a man of laconic speech. "Tut, tut, Dauphin; precedent and code and legal fact are only good when there's brain behind 'em. The tailor yonder has brains."
"Ah, but what does he know about the law?" answered Dauphin, with acrimonious voice but insinuating manner, for he loved to stand well with the Seigneur.
"Enough for the saddler evidently," sharply rejoined the Seigneur.
Dauphin was fighting for his life, as it were. His back was to the wall.
If this man was to be allowed to advise the habitants of Chaudiere on
their disputes and "going to law," where would his own prestige be?
His vanity had been deeply wounded.
"It's guesswork with him. Let him stick to his trade as I stick to mine.
That sort of thing only does harm."
"He puts a thousand dollars into the saddler's pocket: that's a positive good. He may or may not take thereby ten dollars out of your pocket: that's a negative injury. In this case there was no injury, for you had already cost Lacasse—how much had you cost him, Dauphin?" continued the Seigneur, with a half-malicious smile. "I've been out of Chaudiere for near a year; I don't know the record—how much, eh, Dauphin?"