“If Monsieur Gourdon would help, yes,” answered the little chemist.
“Vermut, not a word of all this, or you and I will quarrel; but speak of the matter to Monsieur Gourdon, and tell him to come and see me the day after to-morrow. I may be able to procure him the delicate operation of cutting off a forefinger.”
Then, leaving the little man thoroughly bewildered, Rigou got into the carriole beside Marie Tonsard.
“Well, you little viper,” he said, taking her by the arm when he had fastened the reins to a hook in front of the leathern apron which closed the carriole and the horse had started on a trot, “do you think you can keep Bonnebault by giving way to such violence? If you were a wise girl you would promote his marriage with that hogshead of stupidity and take your revenge afterwards.”
Marie could not help smiling as she answered:—
“Ah, how bad you are! you are the master of us all in wickedness.”
“Listen to me, Marie; I like the peasants, but it won’t do for any one of you to come between my teeth and a mouthful of game. Your brother Nicolas, as Aglae said, is after La Pechina. That must not be; I protect her, that girl. She is to be my heiress for thirty thousand francs, and I intend to marry her well. I know that Nicolas, helped by your sister Catherine, came near killing the little thing this morning. You are to see your brother and sister at once, and say to them: ‘If you let La Pechina alone, Pere Rigou will save Nicolas from the conscription.’”
“You are the devil incarnate!” cried Marie. “They do say you’ve signed a compact with him. Is that true?”
“Yes,” replied Rigou, gravely.
“I heard it, but I didn’t believe it.”