“Oh! no, not at all, I shall not lose it, sir,” said Taboureau. “You see, sir, it is this way; it is the man from Saint-Laurent who owes me the barley; I bought it of him, and now he refuses to deliver it. I just wanted to make quite certain that I should gain my case before going to any expense at court about it.”
Genestas and the doctor exchanged glances; each concealed his amazement at the ingenious device by which the man had sought to learn the truth about this point of law.
“Very well, Taboureau, your man is a swindler; you should not make bargains with such people.”
“Ah! sir, they understand business, those people do.”
“Good-bye, Taboureau.”
“Your servant, gentlemen.”
“Well, now,” remarked Benassis, when the usurer had gone, “if that fellow were in Paris, do you not think that he would be a millionaire before very long?”
After dinner, the doctor and his visitor went back to the salon, and all the rest of the evening until bedtime they talked about war and politics; Genestas evincing a most violent dislike of the English in the course of conversation.
“May I know whom I have the honor of entertaining as a guest?” asked the doctor.
“My name is Pierre Bluteau,” answered Genestas; “I am a captain stationed at Grenoble.”