“Oh! this long time past I have said that M. Cibot was not well,” cried one.
“He worked too hard, he did,” said another; “he heated his blood.”
“He would not listen to me,” put in a neighbor; “I advised him to walk out of a Sunday and keep Saint Monday; two days in the week is not too much for amusement.”
In short, the gossip of the quarter, the tell-tale voice to which Justice, in the person of the commissary of police, the king of the poorer classes, lends an attentive ear—gossip explained the little tailor’s demise in a perfectly satisfactory manner. Yet M. Poulain’s pensive air and uneasy eyes embarrassed Remonencq not a little, and at sight of the doctor he offered eagerly to go in search of M. Trognon, Fraisier’s acquaintance. Fraisier turned to La Cibot to say in a low voice, “I shall come back again as soon as the will is made. In spite of your sorrow, you must look for squalls.” Then he slipped away like a shadow and met his friend the doctor.
“Ah, Poulain!” he exclaimed, “it is all right. We are safe! I will tell you about it to-night. Look out a post that will suit you, you shall have it! For my own part, I am a justice of the peace. Tabareau will not refuse me now for a son-in-law. And as for you, I will undertake that you shall marry Mlle. Vitel, granddaughter of our justice of the peace.”
Fraisier left Poulain reduced to dumb bewilderment by these wild words; bounced like a ball into the boulevard, hailed an omnibus, and was set down ten minutes later by the modern coach at the corner of the Rue de Choiseul. By this time it was nearly four o’clock. Fraisier felt quite sure of a word in private with the Presidente, for officials seldom leave the Palais de Justice before five o’clock.
Mme. de Marville’s reception of him assured Fraisier that M. Leboeuf had kept his promise made to Mme. Vatinelle and spoken favorably of the sometime attorney at Mantes. Amelie’s manner was almost caressing. So might the Duchesse de Montpensier have treated Jacques Clement. The petty attorney was a knife to her hand. But when Fraisier produced the joint-letter signed by Elie Magus and Remonencq offering the sum of nine hundred thousand francs in cash for Pons’ collection, then the Presidente looked at her man of business and the gleam of the money flashed from her eyes. That ripple of greed reached the attorney.
“M. le President left a message with me,” she said; “he hopes that you will dine with us to-morrow. It will be a family party. M. Godeschal, Desroches’ successor and my attorney, will come to meet you, and Berthier, our notary, and my daughter and son-in-law. After dinner, you and I and the notary and attorney will have the little consultation for which you ask, and I will give you full powers. The two gentlemen will do as you require and act upon your inspiration; and see that everything goes well. You shall have a power of attorney from M. de Marville as soon as you want it.”
“I shall want it on the day of the decease.”
“It shall be in readiness.”