For once in his life the avocat bridled up. He got to his feet, and stood silent an instant, raising himself up and down on his tiptoes, his lips compressed, his small body suddenly contracting to a firmness, and grown to a height, his eyelids working quickly. To the end of his life the Cure remembered and talked of the moment when the avocat gave battle. To him it was superb--he never could have done it himself. “I repeat, His Excellency, Monsieur De la Riviere. My information is greater than yours, both by accident and through knowledge. I accept him as a Napoleon, and as a Frenchman I have no cause to blush for my homage or my faith, or for His Excellency. He is a man of loving disposition, of great knowledge, of power to win men, of deep ideas, of large courage. Monsieur, I cannot forget the tragedy he stayed at the smithy, with risk of his own life. I cannot forget--” The Cure, anticipating, nodded at him encouragingly. Probably the avocat intended to say something quite different, but the look in the Cure’s eyes prompted him, and he continued: “I cannot forget that he has given to the poor, and liberally to the Church, and has promised benefits to the deserving--ah, no, no, my dear Seigneur!” He had delivered his speech in a quaint, quick way, as though addressing a jury, and when he had finished, he sat down again, and nodded his head, and tapped a foot on the floor; and the Cure did the same, looking inquiringly at De la Riviere. This was the first time there had been trouble in the little coterie. They had never differed painfully before. Tall Medallion longed to say something, but he waited for the Cure to speak. “What is your mind, Monsieur le Cure?” asked De la Riviere testily. “My dear friend, Monsieur Garon, has answered for us both,” replied the Cure quietly. “Do you mean to say that you will not act with me to stop this thing,” he urged--“not even for the safety of the people?” The reply was calm and resolute: “My people shall have my prayers and my life, when needed, but I do not feel called upon to act for the State. I have the honour to be a friend of His Excellency.” “By Heaven, the State shall act!” cried De la Riviere, fierce with rancour. “I shall go to this Valmond to-night, with my friend the member here. I shall warn him, and call upon the people to disperse. If he doesn’t listen, let him beware! I seem to stand alone in the care of Pontiac!” The avocat turned to his desk. “No, no; I will write you a legal opinion,” he said, with professional honesty. “You shall have my legal help; but for the rest, I am at one with my dear Cure.” “Well, Medallion, you too?” asked De la Riviere. “I’ll go with you to the camp,” answered the auctioneer. “Fair play is all I care for. Pontiac will come out of this all right. Come along.”