“You gave us bad advice, Mr. Professor,” he said.
“That’s certain,” added Randon.
“You need not have asked my advice.”
“Who asked your advice?” retorted Détraz, in a fresh access of fury. “You mixed yourself up in our affairs only to bring them to ruin, you poisonous ruffian. That’s what you are, a poisonous ruffian!” So pleased was he with the expression that he repeated it.
Randon took him by the arm and tried to calm him and lead him away. But it is the way of the ignorant—as it is of women—to introduce irrelevant arguments into a quarrel. Détraz wheeled round again on the schoolmaster to shout:
“Besides, you steal the public money!”
“I steal?” protested Maillard.
“Yes, you exact private fees for the right of cutting firewood, for receiving affidavits, for everything, in fact. We’ll see the last of you, or I’ll have your skin.” In his rage, he showed the instinctive hatred of the primitive nature for knowledge and of the taxpayer for the official.
The two enemies fell upon each other. The Mayor held Maillard back and Randon restrained his colleague.
“Listen to me,” begged the old man, “listen to me.”