“Well, what is it?” asked the doctor.

“It is this, sir.  The mistress, our Mme. Vigneau, has turned as white as white can be, so that we are frightened about her.”

“Oh, well, then,” Benassis said cheerfully, “I must leave the table,” and he rose to go.

In spite of the doctor’s entreaties, Genestas flung down his table-napkin, and swore in a soldierly fashion that he would not finish his dinner without his host.  He returned indeed to the salon; and as he warmed himself by the fire, he thought over the troubles that no man may escape, the troubles that are found in every lot that it falls to man to endure here upon earth.

Benassis soon came back, and the two future friends sat down again.

“Taboureau has just come up to speak to you,” said Jacquotte to her master, as she brought in the dishes that she had kept hot for them.

“Who can be ill at his place?” asked the doctor.

“No one is ill, sir.  I think from what he said that it is some matter of his own that he wants to ask you about; he is coming back again.”

“Very good.  This Taboureau,” Benassis went on, addressing Genestas, “is for me a whole philosophical treatise; take a good look at him when he comes, he is sure to amuse you.  He was a laborer, a thrifty, hard-working man, eating little and getting through a good deal of work.  As soon as the rogue came to have a few crowns of his own, his intelligence began to develop; he watched the progress which I had originated in this little district with an eye to his own profit.  He had made quite a fortune in eight year’s time, that is to say, a fortune for our part of the world.  Very likely he may have a couple of score thousand francs by now.  But if I were to give you a thousand guesses, you would never find out how he made the money.  He is a usurer, and his scheme of usury is so profoundly and so cleverly based upon the requirements of the whole canton, that I should merely waste my time if I were to take it upon myself to undeceive them as to the benefits which they reap, in their own opinion, from their dealings with Taboureau.  When this devil of a fellow saw every one cultivating his own plot of ground, he hurried about buying grain so as to supply the poor with the requisite seed.  Here, as everywhere else, the peasants and even some of the farmers had no ready money with which to pay for seed.  To some, Master Taboureau would lend a sack of barley, for which he was to receive a sack of rye at harvest time, and to others a measure of wheat for a sack of four.  At the present day the man has extended this curious business of his all over the department; and unless something happens to prevent him, he will go on and very likely make a million.  Well, my dear sir, Taboureau the laborer, an obliging, hard-working, good-natured fellow, used to lend a helping hand to any one who asked him; but as his gains have increased Monsieur Taboureau has become litigious, arrogant,