“We all believe in his loyalty,” said Rigou, “but nevertheless nothing should be neglected, even among friends--By the bye, I think there is some one in Soulanges who is hindering matters.” “Who’s that?” asked Soudry. “Plissoud,” replied Rigou. “Plissoud!” exclaimed Soudry. “Poor fool! Brunet holds him by the halter, and his wife by the gullet; ask Lupin.” “What can he do?” said Lupin. “He means to warn Montcornet,” replied Rigou, “and get his influence and a place--” “It wouldn’t bring him more than his wife earns for him at Soulanges,” said Madame Soudry. “He tells everything to his wife when he is drunk,” remarked Lupin. “We shall know it all in good time.” “The beautiful Madame Plissoud has no secrets from you,” said Rigou; “we may be easy about that.” “Besides, she’s as stupid as she is beautiful,” said Madame Soudry. “I wouldn’t change with her; for if I were a man I’d prefer an ugly woman who has some mind, to a beauty who can’t say two words.” “Ah!” said the notary, biting his lips, “but she can make others say three.” “Puppy!” cried Rigou, as he made for the door. “Well, then,” said Soudry, following him to the portico, “to-morrow, early.” “I’ll come and fetch you--Ha! Lupin,” he said to the notary, who came out with him to order his horse, “try to make sure that Madame Sarcus hears all the Shopman says and does against us at the Prefecture.” “If she doesn’t hear it, who will?” replied Lupin. “Excuse me,” said Rigou, smiling blandly, “but there are such a lot of ninnies in there that I forgot there was one clever man.” “The wonder is that I don’t grow rusty among them,” replied Lupin, naively. “Is it true that Soudry has hired a pretty servant?” “Yes,” replied Lupin; “for the last week our worthy mayor has set the charms of his wife in full relief by comparing her with a little peasant-girl about the age of an old ox; and we can’t yet imagine how he settles it with Madame Soudry, for, would you believe it, he has the audacity to go to bed early.” “I’ll find out to-morrow,” said the village Sardanapalus, trying to smile. The two plotters shook hands as they parted. Rigou, who did not like to be on the road after dark for, notwithstanding his present popularity, he was cautious, called to his horse, “Get up, Citizen,”--a joke this son of 1793 was fond of letting fly at the Revolution. Popular revolutions have no more bitter enemies than those they have trained themselves. “Pere Rigou’s visits are pretty short,” said Gourdon the poet to Madame Soudry. “They are pleasant, if they are short,” she answered. “Like his own life,” said the doctor; “his abuse of pleasures will cut that short.” “So much the better,” remarked Soudry, “my son will step into the property.” “Did he bring you any news about Les Aigues?” asked the Abbe Taupin.