David went to Marsac. For the past six months he had gone over on Saturday evening, returning again to L’Houmeau on Tuesday morning. Eve, after much counsel from her father-in-law, had bought a house called the Verberie, with three acres of land and a croft planted with vines, which lay like a wedge in the old man’s vineyard. Here, with her mother and Marion, she lived a very frugal life, for five thousand francs of the purchase money still remained unpaid. It was a charming little domain, the prettiest bit of property in Marsac. The house, with a garden before it and a yard at the back, was built of white tufa ornamented with carvings, cut without great expense in that easily wrought stone, and roofed with slate. The pretty furniture from the house in Angoulême looked prettier still at Marsac, for there was not the slightest attempt at comfort or luxury in the country in those days. A row of orange-trees, pomegranates, and rare plants stood before the house on the side of the garden, set there by the last owner, an old general who died under M. Marron’s hands. David was enjoying his holiday sitting under an orange-tree with his wife, and father, and little Lucien, when the bailiff from Mansle appeared. Cointet Brothers gave their partner formal notice to appoint an arbitrator to settle disputes, in accordance with a clause in the agreement. The Cointets demanded that the six thousand francs should be refunded, and the patent surrendered in consideration of the enormous outlay made to no purpose. “People say that you are ruining them,” said old Séchard. “Well, well, of all that you have done, that is the one thing that I am glad to know.” At nine o’clock the next morning Eve and David stood in Petit-Claud’s waiting-room. The little lawyer was the guardian of the widow and orphan by virtue of his office, and it seemed to them that they could take no other advice. Petit-Claud was delighted to see his clients, and insisted that M. and Mme. Séchard should do him the pleasure of breakfasting with him. “Do the Cointets want six thousand francs of you?” he asked, smiling. “How much is still owing of the purchase-money of the Verberie?” “Five thousand francs, monsieur,” said Eve, “but I have two thousand----” “Keep your money,” Petit-Claud broke in. “Let us see: five thousand--why, you want quite another ten thousand francs to settle yourselves comfortably down yonder. Very good, in two hours’ time the Cointets shall bring you fifteen thousand francs----” Eve started with surprise. “If you will renounce all claims to the profits under the deed of partnership, and come to an amicable settlement,” said Petit-Claud. “Does that suit you?” “Will it really be lawfully ours?” asked Eve.