The General was scarcely in his own room when Simon presented himself, sneaking upstairs with a light tread and slipping noiselessly through the door, his dark face full of eager expectation. He had often wondered whether there might not be some special dirty work to be done for the General, and had taken pains to keep himself under his eye and in his good looks. If the civil power chose to let the Chouans have it all their own way, the military power might one of these days step in effectively. But Simon was not particular. Whatever the work might be, public or private, he was at the service of the authorities. If only the authorities would take his view of their interest and duty! It was a little difficult to stand unmoved under General Ratoneau's bullying stare. Simon did so, however, his mouth only working a little at the corners. How far might he go with this man? he was asking himself. Ratoneau did not keep him long in suspense. He suddenly took his cigar from his mouth, swore a tremendous oath, and kicked a chair across the room. "Are you to be trusted, fellow?" he said. "I have kept a few secrets, monsieur," Simon answered discreetly. "Then here is another for you. I wish that chair was Monsieur le Baron de Mauves." "Ah! Indeed! There has been some disagreement. I saw it, when Monsieur le Général came out of the Prefecture this afternoon." "You saw it, did you? No wonder! I try to hide nothing--why should I? But tell me, I beseech you, why are we in this miserable department cursed with a feather-bed for a governor?" "If I might venture in this presence to say so," murmured Simon, "I have often asked the same question. A feather-bed, yes--and it would be softer and quieter to kick than that arrangement of wood and nails!" He muttered the last sentence between his teeth with an amused grin, for General Ratoneau, striding round the room in a whirlwind of kicks and oaths, was making far too much noise to hear him. At last, his wrath having exploded, the General flung himself back on his sofa and said, "The Prefect is a fool, and I hate him." "Tiens!" Simon whistled softly and long. "This is something new--and serious!" he murmured. The General turned upon him instantly, with a severe air. "What is your grievance against the Prefect?" "Ah--well, monsieur, when you come to grievances--a grievance is a valuable thing--yes, sometimes a small fortune lies in a grievance." "I believe you are a liar!" "Pardon, monsieur--what lie have I told?" "You said you had had provocations. You called Monsieur le Préfet a feather-bed, meaning that he had smothered and stifled you. I don't believe a word of it!" "Oh! Monsieur le Général is very clever!" Simon ventured on a small laugh. "Come, don't play with me, you rascal. What complaint have you to make?"