Vaudoyer, the displaced keeper, a peasant on the Ronquerolles estate, was only fit, like most field-keepers, to stalk about, and gossip, and let himself be petted by the poor of the district, who asked nothing better than to corrupt at subaltern authority,—­the advanced guard, as it were, of the land-owners.  He knew Soudry, the brigadier at Soulanges, for brigadiers of gendarmerie, performing functions that are semi-judicial in drawing up criminal indictments, have much to do with the rural keepers, who are, in fact, their natural spies.  Soudry, being appealed to, sent Vaudoyer to Gaubertin, who received his old acquaintance very cordially, and invited him to drink while listening to the recital of his troubles.

“My dear friend,” said the mayor of Ville-aux-Fayes, who could talk to every man in his own language, “what has happened to you is likely to happen to us all.  The nobles are back upon us.  The men to whom the Emperor gave titles make common cause with the old nobility.  They all want to crush the people, re-establish their former rights and take our property from us.  But we are Burgundians; we must resist, and drive those Arminacs back to Paris.  Return to Blangy; you shall be agent for Monsieur Polissard, the wood-merchant, who is contractor for the forest of Ronquerolles.  Don’t be uneasy, my lad; I’ll find you enough to do for the whole of the coming year.  But remember one thing; the wood is for ourselves!  Not a single depredation, or the thing is at an end.  Send all interlopers to Les Aigues.  If there’s brush or fagots to sell make people buy ours; don’t let them buy of Les Aigues.  You’ll get back to your place as field-keeper before long; this thing can’t last.  The general will get sick of living among thieves.  Did you know that that Shopman called me a thief, me!—­son of the stanchest and most incorruptible of republicans; me!—­the son in law of Mouchon, that famous representative of the people, who died without leaving me enough to bury him?”

The general raised the salary of the new field-keeper to three hundred francs; and built a town-hall, in which he gave him a residence.  Then he married him to a daughter of one of his tenant-farmers, who had lately died, leaving her an orphan with three acres of vineyard.  Groison attached himself to the general as a dog to his master.  This legitimate fidelity was admitted by the whole community.  The keeper was feared and respected, but like the captain of a vessel whose ship’s company hate him; the peasantry shunned him as they would a leper.  Met either in silence or with sarcasms veiled under a show of good-humor, the new keeper was a sentinel watched by other sentinels.  He could do nothing against such numbers.  The delinquents took delight in plotting depredations which it was impossible for him to prove, and the old soldier grew furious at his helplessness.  Groison found the excitement of a war of factions in his duties, and all the pleasures of the chase,—­a chase after petty delinquents.