"Well, well, don't be angry. I meant no offence. It is good to be prepared for misfortune. And my word for it, these are bad times. The humble are oppressed; the great nobles have the power; justice is no more in the land—by the peasant, especially, it is never to be found. The nobleman and the fisc are too powerful for him."
"But we have laws, neighbour; and the laws govern both rich and poor, great and small."
"They should, they should! But what is the use of laws, when judges are not honest? When bailiffs can squeeze us, and tax-gatherers cheat us, without our daring to make a stir about it."
"But bailiffs and tax-gatherers have their superiors."
"Ay, but all are links of the same chain. All stand by each other. They dine at each other's tables, and make each other presents. The bailiff sends the best carriage-horses to the president's stables. The president is a good friend of the minister's. And the nobleman is hand and glove with all of them."
The woman rose from her seat. "It is breakfast-time, neighbour Littlejohn; come in. My husband will soon be back."
They walked toward the farm-house. They were but a few paces from the door, when two carriages drove into the yard, containing several persons. On the box of one sat two gendarmes, and upon the other were two officers of justice.
"There they are," exclaimed Littlejohn. "Keep up your heart, neighbour."
The woman's countenance worked convulsively for a moment, but she quickly composed herself, and taking little Margaret in her arms, she stood calm and silent before the door.
The gendarmes and officers got down from the box; the gentlemen alighted from the carriages. One of the latter, a short, corpulent person, approached the farmer's wife.