“It is a question of income, my dear,” said the general, showing the letter to his wife. “Will you go down to Les Aigues a little earlier this year than last?”
“Go yourself, and I will follow you when the weather is warmer,” said the countess, not sorry to remain in Paris alone.
The general, who knew very well the canker that was eating into his revenues, departed without his wife, resolved to take vigorous measures. In so doing he reckoned, as we shall see, without his Gaubertin.
CHAPTER VIII. THE GREAT REVOLUTIONS OF A LITTLE VALLEY
“Well, Maitre Sibilet,” said the general to his steward, the morning after his arrival, giving him a familiar title which showed how much he appreciated his services, “so we are, to use a ministerial phrase, at a crisis?”
“Yes, Monsieur le comte,” said Sibilet, following the general.
The fortunate possessor of Les Aigues was walking up and down in front of the steward’s house, along a little terrace where Madame Sibilet grew flowers, at the end of which was a wide stretch of meadow-land watered by the canal which Blondet has described. From this point the chateau of Les Aigues was seen in the distance, and in like manner the profile, as it were, of the steward’s lodge was seen from Les Aigues.
“But,” resumed the general, “what’s the difficulty? If I do lose the suit against the Gravelots, a money wound is not mortal, and I’ll have the leasing of my forest so well advertised that there will be competition, and I shall sell the timber at its true value.”
“Business is not done in that way, Monsieur le comte,” said Sibilet. “Suppose you get no lessees, what will you do?”