"M. de Marignac's house was burned last night," the Curé said softly.
"Oh!"
"And I fear that we shall hear of others. I think that we must look matters in the face, M. le Vicomte."
"It is not a question of thinking or looking, but of doing!" the Captain said, interrupting him harshly. "We have a long summer's day before us, but if by to-night we have not done something, there will be a sorry dawning in Quercy to-morrow."
"There are the King's troops," I said.
"They refuse to obey orders. Therefore, they are worse than useless."
"Their officers?"
"They are staunch; but the people hate them. A knight of St. Louis is to the mob what a red rag is to a bull. I can answer for it that they have enough to do to keep their men in barracks, and guard their own heads."
I resented his familiarity, and the impatience with which he spoke; but, resent it as I might, I could not return to the tone I had used yesterday. Then it had seemed an outrageous thing that Buton should stand by and listen. To-day the same thing had an ordinary air. And this, moreover, was a different man from Doury; arguments that had crushed the one would have no weight with the other. I saw that, and, rather helplessly, I asked Father Benôit what he would have.
He did not answer. It was the Captain who replied. "We want you to join the Committee," he said briskly.