Ten minutes later Rigou, dressed with more care than usual, came downstairs and greeted his wife with a “Good-morning, my old woman,” which made her happier than if counts had knelt at her feet.
“Jean,” he said to the ex-lay-brother, “don’t leave the house; if any one robs me it will be worse for you than for me.”
By thus mingling mildness and severity, hopes and rebuffs, the clever egoist kept his three slaves faithful and close at his heels, like dogs.
Taking the upper-road, so-called, to avoid the Close of the Cross, Rigou reached the square of Soulanges about eight o’clock.
Just as he was fastening his rein to the post nearest the little door with three steps, a blind opened and Soudry showed his face, pitted with the small-pox, which the expression of his small black eyes rendered crafty.
“Let’s begin by taking a crust here before we start,” he said; “we sha’n’t get breakfast at Ville-aux-Fayes before one o’clock.”
Then he softly called a servant-girl, as young and pretty as Annette, who came down noiselessly, and received his order for ham and bread; after which he went himself to the cellar and fetched some wine.
Rigou contemplated for the hundredth time the well-known dining-room, floored in oak, with stuccoed ceiling and cornice, its high wainscot and handsome cupboards finely painted, its porcelain stone and magnificent tall clock,—all the property of Mademoiselle Laguerre. The chair-backs were in the form of lyres, painted white and highly varnished; the seats were of green morocco with gilt nails. A massive mahogany table was covered with green oilcloth, with large squares of a deeper shade of green, and a plain border of the lighter. The floor, laid in Hungarian point, was carefully waxed by Urbain and showed the care which ex-waiting-women know how to exact out of their servants.
“Bah! it cost too much,” thought Rigou for the hundredth time. “I can eat as good a dinner in my room as here, and I have the income of the money this useless splendor would have wasted. Where is Madame Soudry?” he asked, as the mayor returned armed with a venerable bottle.
“Asleep.”