The general, who had come by the park, took his guests back through the forest that they might see for themselves the injury done to the timber, and so judge of the importance of the question. Just as Rigou and Soudry were on their way back to Blangy, the count and countess, Emile Blondet, the lieutenant of gendarmerie, the sergeant, and the mayor of Conches were finishing their breakfast in the splendid dining-room where Bouret’s luxury had left the delightful traces already described by Blondet in his letter to Nathan. “It would be a terrible pity to abandon this beautiful home,” said the lieutenant, who had never before been at Les Aigues, and who was glancing over a glass of champagne at the circling nymphs that supported the ceiling. “We intend to defend it to the death,” said Blondet. “If I say that,” continued the lieutenant, looking at his sergeant as if to enjoin silence, “it is because the general’s enemies are not only among the peasantry--” The worthy man was quite moved by the excellence of the breakfast, the magnificence of the silver service, the imperial luxury that surrounded him, and Blondet’s clever talk excited him as much as the champagne he had imbibed. “Enemies! have I enemies?” said the general, surprised. “He, so kind!” added the countess. “But you are on bad terms with our mayor, Monsieur Gaubertin,” said the lieutenant. “It would be wise, for the sake of the future, to be reconciled with him.” “With him!” cried the count. “Then you don’t know that he was my former steward, and a swindler!” “A swindler no longer,” said the lieutenant, “for he is mayor of Ville-aux-Fayes.” “Ha, ha!” laughed Blondet, “the lieutenant’s wit is keen; evidently a mayor is essentially an honest man.” The lieutenant, convinced by the count’s words that it was useless to attempt to enlighten him, said no more on that subject, and the conversation changed. CHAPTER VI. THE FOREST AND THE HARVEST