The doctor nodded, so Taboureau went on.

“Well, then, sir, two months ago a man from Saint-Laurent came over here to find me.  ‘Taboureau,’ said he to me, ’could you sell me a hundred and thirty-seven measures of barley?’ ‘Why not?’ say I, ’that is my trade.  Do you want it immediately?’ ‘No,’ he says, ’I want it for the beginning of spring, in March.’  So far, so good.  Well, we drive our bargain, and we drink a glass, and we agree that he is to pay me the price that the barley fetched at Grenoble last market day, and I am to deliver it in March.  I am to warehouse it at owner’s risk, and no allowance for shrinkage of course.  But barley goes up and up, my dear sir; the barley rises like boiling milk.  Then I am hard up for money, and I sell my barley.  Quite natural, sir, was it not?”

“No,” said Benassis, “the barley had passed out of your possession, you were only warehousing it.  And suppose the barley had gone down in value, would you not have compelled your buyer to take it at the price you agreed upon?”

“But very likely he would not have paid me, sir.  One must look out for oneself!  The seller ought to make a good profit when the chance comes in his way; and, after, all the goods are not yours until you have paid for them.  That is so, Monsieur l’Officier, is it not?  For you can see that the gentleman has been in the army.”

“Taboureau,” Benassis said sternly, “ill luck will come to you.  Sooner or later God punishes ill deeds.  How can you, knowing as much as you do, a capable man moreover, and a man who conducts his business honorably, set examples of dishonesty to the canton?  If you allow such proceedings as this to be taken against you, how can you expect that the poor will remain honest people and will not rob you?  Your laborers will cheat you out of part of their working hours, and every one here will be demoralized.  You are in the wrong.  Your barley was as good as delivered.  If the man from Saint-Laurent had fetched it himself, you would not have gone there to take it away from him; you have sold something that was no longer yours to sell, for your barley had already been turned into money which was to be paid down at the stipulated time.  But go on.”

Genestas gave the doctor a significant glance, to call his attention to Taboureau’s impassive countenance.  Not a muscle had stirred in the usurer’s face during this reprimand; there was no flush on his forehead, and no sign of emotion in his little eyes.

“Well, sir, I am called upon to supply the barley at last winter’s price.  Now I consider that I am not bound to do so.”

“Look here, Taboureau, deliver that barley and be very quick about it, or make up your mind to be respected by nobody in the future.  Even if you gained the day in a case like this, you would be looked upon as an unscrupulous man who does not keep to his word, and is not bound by promises, or by honor, or——­”