“Jacquotte!” Benassis called out.  “This gentleman will dine with us.”

“But would it not be as well for us to settle about the payment?”

“Payment for what?” inquired the doctor.

“For my board.  You cannot keep me and my horse as well, without——­”

“If you are wealthy, you will repay me amply,” Benassis replied; “and if you are not, I will take nothing whatever.”

“Nothing whatever seems to me to be too dear,” said Genestas.  “But, rich or poor, will ten francs a day (not including your professional services) be acceptable to you?”

“Nothing could be less acceptable to me than payment for the pleasure of entertaining a visitor,” the doctor answered, knitting his brows; “and as to my advice, you shall have it if I like you, and not unless.  Rich people shall not have my time by paying for it; it belongs exclusively to the folk here in the valley.  I do not care about fame or fortune, and I look for neither praise or gratitude from my patients.  Any money which you may pay me will go to the druggists in Grenoble, to pay for the medicine required by the poor of the neighborhood.”

Any one who had heard the words flung out, abruptly, it is true, but without a trace of bitterness in them, would have said to himself with Genestas, “Here is a man made of good human clay.”

“Well, then, I will pay you ten francs a day, sir,” the soldier answered, returning to the charge with wonted pertinacity, “and you will do as you choose after that.  We shall understand each other better, now that the question is settled,” he added, grasping the doctor’s hand with eager cordiality.  “In spite of my ten francs, you shall see that I am by no means a Tartar.”

After this passage of arms, in which Benassis showed not the slightest sign of a wish to appear generous or to pose as a philanthropist, the supposed invalid entered his doctor’s house.  Everything within it was in keeping with the ruinous state of the gateway, and with the clothing worn by its owner.  There was an utter disregard for everything not essentially useful, which was visible even in the smallest trifles.  Benassis took Genestas through the kitchen, that being the shortest way to the dining-room.

Had the kitchen belonged to an inn, it could not have been more smoke-begrimed; and if there was a sufficiency of cooking pots within its precincts, this lavish supply was Jacquotte’s doing—­Jacquotte who had formerly been the cure’s housekeeper—­Jacquotte who always said “we,” and who ruled supreme over the doctor’s household.  If, for instance, there was a brightly polished warming-pan above the mantelshelf, it probably hung there because Jacquotte liked to sleep warm of a winter night, which led her incidentally to warm her master’s sheets.  He never took a thought about anything; so she was wont to say.