“Sue them,” said Rigou, sententiously.
“That would lead too far,” replied the innkeeper.
“Do your clients get on well together?”
“Tolerably, yes; sometimes they’ll have a row, but that’s only natural for players.”
All heads were at the window of the Soudry salon which looked to the square. Recognizing the father of his daughter-in-law, Soudry came to the portico to receive him.
“Well, comrade,” said the mayor of Soulanges, “is Annette ill, that you give us your company of an evening?”
Through an old habit acquired in the gendarmerie Soudry always went direct to the point.
“No,—There’s trouble brewing,” replied Rigou, touching his right fore-finger to the hand which Soudry held out to him. “I came to talk about it, for it concerns our children in a way—”
Soudry, a handsome man dressed in blue, as though he were still a gendarme, with a black collar, and spurs at his heels, took Rigou by the arm and led him up to his imposing better-half. The glass door to the terrace was open, and the guests were walking about enjoying the summer evening, which brought out the full beauty of the glorious landscape which we have already described.
“It is a long time since we have seen you, my dear Rigou,” said Madame Soudry, taking the arm of the ex-Benedictine and leading him out upon the terrace.