“Really,” said Coulon, “I am astonished that people of intelligence——”
“The law dispenses you from the possession of it,” retorted Pécuchet. “The justice of the peace occupies his post indefinitely, while the judge of the supreme court is reputed capable up to seventy-five years, and the judge of first instance is no longer so at seventy.”
But, at a gesture from Foureau, Placquevent advanced.
They protested.
“Ah! if you were appointed by competition!”
“Or by the General Council!”
“Or a committee of experts, and according to a proper list!”
Placquevent moved them on, and they went out while the other defendants’ names were being called, believing that they had made a good show in the course of these vile proceedings.
To give vent to their indignation they went that evening to Beljambe’s hostelry. His café was empty, the principal customers being in the habit of leaving about ten o’clock. The lamp had been lowered; the walls and the counter seemed shrouded in a fog. A female attendant came on the scene. It was Mélie. She did not appear agitated, and, smiling, she poured them out two bocks. Pécuchet, ill at ease, quickly left the establishment.
Bouvard came back there alone, entertained some of the villagers with sarcasms at the mayor’s expense, and after that went into the smoking-room.