“No, my man, no!” said Paul-Marie. “But we will always take care of you, though you will have to leave our service and the country too. Sell your property here; we will send you to Trieste to a friend of ours who has immense business connections, and he’ll employ you until things are better in this country for all of us.”
Tears came into Michu’s eyes; he stood rooted to the floor.
“Were there any witnesses when you aimed at Malin?” asked the Marquis de Chargeboeuf.
“Grevin the notary was talking with him, and that prevented my killing him—very fortunately, as Madame la Comtesse knows,” said Michu, looking at his mistress.
“Grevin is not the only one who knows it?” said Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, who seemed annoyed at what was said, though none but the family were present.
“That police spy who came here to trap my masters, he knew it too,” said Michu.
Monsieur de Chargeboeuf rose as if to look at the gardens, and said, “You have made the most of Cinq-Cygne.” Then he left the house, followed by the two brothers and Laurence, who now saw the meaning of his visit.
“You are frank and generous, but most imprudent,” said the old man. “It was natural enough that I should warn you of a rumor which was certain to be a slander; but what have you done now? you have let such weak persons as Monsieur and Madame d’Hauteserre and their sons see that there was truth in it. Oh, young men! young men! You ought to keep Michu here and go away yourselves. But if you persist in remaining, at least write a letter to the senator and tell him that having heard the rumors about Michu you have dismissed him from your employ.”
“We!” exclaimed the brothers; “what, write to Malin,—to the murderer of our father and our mother, to the insolent plunderer of our property!”
“All true; but he is one of the chief personages at the Imperial court, and the king of your department.”