It may be well to say here that at this period of the Restoration, various bloody encounters had taken place in remote parts of the kingdom, caused by this very question of the pillage of woods, and the marauding rights which the peasants were everywhere arrogating to themselves.  Neither the government nor the court liked these outbreaks, nor the shedding of blood which resulted from repression.  Though they felt the necessity of rigorous measures, they nevertheless treated as blunderers the officials who were compelled to employ them, and dismissed them on the first pretence.  The prefects were therefore anxious to shuffle out of such difficulties whenever possible.

At the very beginning of the conversation Sarcus (the rich) had made a sign to the prefect and the attorney-general which Montcornet did not see, but which set the tone of the discussion.  The attorney-general was well aware of the state of mind of the inhabitants of the valley des Aigues through his subordinate, Soudry the young attorney.

“I foresee a terrible struggle,” the latter had said to him.  “They mean to kill the gendarmes; my spies tell me so.  It will be very hard to convict them for it.  The instant the jury feel they are incurring the hatred of the friends of the twenty or thirty prisoners, they will not sustain us,—­we could not get them to convict for death, nor even for the galleys.  Possibly by prosecuting in person you might get a few years’ imprisonment for the actual murderers.  Better shut our eyes than open them, if by opening them we bring on a collision which costs bloodshed and several thousand francs to the State,—­not to speak of the cost of keeping the guilty in prison.  It is too high a price to pay for a victory which will only reveal our judicial weakness to the eyes of all.”

Montcornet, who was wholly without suspicion of the strength and influence of the Mediocracy in his happy valley, did not even mention Gaubertin, whose hand kept these embers of opposition always alive, though smouldering.  After breakfast the attorney-general took Montcornet by the arm and led him to the Prefect’s study.  When the general left that room after their conference, he wrote to his wife that he was starting for Paris and should be absent a week.  We shall see, after the execution of certain measures suggested by Baron Bourlac, the attorney-general, whether the secret advice he gave to Montcornet was wise, and whether in conforming to it the count and Les Aigues were enabled to escape the “Evil grudge.”

Some minds, eager for mere amusement, will complain that these various explanations are far too long; but we once more call attention to the fact that the historian of the manners, customs, and morals of his time must obey a law far more stringent than that imposed on the historian of mere facts.  He must show the probability of everything, even the truth; whereas, in the domain of history, properly so-called, the impossible must be accepted for the sole reason that