“We are brothers in socks,” said Mistigris, pulling up his own trousers sufficiently to show an effect of the same kind,—“‘By the footing, Hercules.’”
The count, who overheard this, laughed as he stood with folded arms under the porte-cochere, a little behind the other travellers. However nonsensical these lads might be, the grave statesman envied their very follies; he liked their bragging and enjoyed the fun of their lively chatter.
“Well, are you to have Les Moulineaux? for I know you went to Paris to get the money for the purchase,” said the inn-keeper to Pere Leger, whom he had just taken to the stables to see a horse he wanted to sell to him. “It will be queer if you manage to fleece a peer of France and a minister of State like the Comte de Serizy.”
The person thus alluded to showed no sign upon his face as he turned to look at the farmer.
“I’ve done for him,” replied Pere Leger, in a low voice.
“Good! I like to see those nobles fooled. If you should want twenty thousand francs or so, I’ll lend them to you—But Francois, the conductor of Touchard’s six o’clock coach, told me that Monsieur Margueron was invited by the Comte de Serizy to dine with him to-day at Presles.”
“That was the plan of his Excellency, but we had our own little ways of thwarting it,” said the farmer, laughing.
“The count could appoint Monsieur Margueron’s son, and you haven’t any place to give,—remember that,” said the inn-keeper.
“Of course I do; but if the count has the ministry on his side, I have King Louis XVIII.,” said Pere Leger, in a low voice. “Forty thousand of his pictures on coin of the realm given to Moreau will enable me to buy Les Moulineaux for two hundred and sixty thousand, money down, before Monsieur de Serizy can do so. When he finds the sale is made, he’ll be glad enough to buy the farm for three hundred and sixty thousand, instead of letting me cut it up in small lots right in the heart of his property.”
“Well done, bourgeois!” cried the inn-keeper.