“Go on, there is nothing to be afraid of; tell me that I am a scamp, a scoundrel, a thief outright.  You can say things like that in business without insulting anybody, M. le Maire.  ’Tis each for himself in business, you know.”

“Well, then, why deliberately put yourself in a position in which you deserve to be called by such names?”

“But if the law is on my side, sir?”

“But the law will certainly not be on your side.”

“Are you quite sure about it, sir?  Certain sure?  For you see it is an important matter.”

“Certainly I am.  Quite sure.  If I were not at dinner, I would have down the code, and you should see for yourself.  If the case comes on, you will lose it, and you will never set foot in my house again, for I do not wish to receive people whom I do not respect.  Do you understand?  You will lose your case.”

“Oh! no, not at all, I shall not lose it, sir,” said Taboureau.  “You see, sir, it is this way; it is the man from Saint-Laurent who owes me the barley; I bought it of him, and now he refuses to deliver it.  I just wanted to make quite certain that I should gain my case before going to any expense at court about it.”

Genestas and the doctor exchanged glances; each concealed his amazement at the ingenious device by which the man had sought to learn the truth about this point of law.

“Very well, Taboureau, your man is a swindler; you should not make bargains with such people.”

“Ah! sir, they understand business, those people do.”

“Good-bye, Taboureau.”

“Your servant, gentlemen.”

“Well, now,” remarked Benassis, when the usurer had gone, “if that fellow were in Paris, do you not think that he would be a millionaire before very long?”

After dinner, the doctor and his visitor went back to the salon, and all the rest of the evening until bedtime they talked about war and politics; Genestas evincing a most violent dislike of the English in the course of conversation.

“May I know whom I have the honor of entertaining as a guest?” asked the doctor.

“My name is Pierre Bluteau,” answered Genestas; “I am a captain stationed at Grenoble.”

“Very well, sir.  Do you care to adopt M. Gravier’s plan?  In the morning after breakfast he liked to go on my rounds with me.  I am not at all sure that you would find anything to interest you in the things that occupy me—­they are so very commonplace.  For, after all, you own no land about here, nor are you the mayor of the place, and you will see nothing in the canton that you cannot see elsewhere; one thatched cottage is just like another.  Still you will be in the open air, and you will have something to take you out of doors.”

“No proposal could give me more pleasure.  I did not venture to make it myself, lest I should thrust myself upon you.”

Commandant Genestas (who shall keep his own name in spite of the fictitious appellation which he had thought fit to give himself) followed his host to a room on the first floor above the salon.