One day in his walks he met a gaunt figure ambling on a fat pony:  he stopped him, and, holding up his finger, said abruptly, “We have found you out, Maitre Perrin.”

The notary changed color.

“Oh, never be ashamed,” said Aubertin; “a good action done slyly is none the less a good action.”

The notary wore a puzzled air.

Aubertin admired his histrionic powers in calling up this look.

“Come, come, don’t overdo it,” said he.  “Well, well; they cannot profit by your liberality; but you will be rewarded in a better world, take my word for that.”

The notary muttered indistinctly.  He was a man of moderate desires; would have been quite content if there had been no other world in perspective.  He had studied this one, and made it pay:  did not desire a better; sometimes feared a worse.

“Ah!” said Aubertin, “I see how it is; we do not like to hear ourselves praised, do we?  When shall we see you at the chateau?”

“I propose to call on the baroness the moment I have good news to bring,” replied Perrin; and to avoid any more compliments spurred the dun pony suddenly; and he waddled away.

Now this Perrin was at that moment on the way to dine with a character who plays a considerable part in the tale—­Commandant Raynal.  Perrin had made himself useful to the commandant, and had become his legal adviser.  And, this very day after dinner, the commandant having done a good day’s work permitted himself a little sentiment over the bottle, and to a man he thought his friend.  He let out that he had a heap of money he did not know what to do with, and almost hated it now his mother was gone and could not share it.

The man of law consoled him with oleaginous phrases:  told him he very much underrated the power of money.  His hoard, directed by a judicious adviser, would make him a landed proprietor, and the husband of some young lady, all beauty, virtue, and accomplishment, whose soothing influence would soon heal the sorrow caused by an excess of filial sentiment.

“Halt!” shouted Raynal:  “say that again in half the words.”

Perrin was nettled, for he prided himself on his colloquial style.

“You can buy a fine estate and a chaste wife with the money,” snapped this smooth personage, substituting curt brutality for honeyed prolixity.

The soldier was struck by the propositions the moment they flew at him small and solid, like bullets.

“I’ve no time,” said he, “to be running after women.  But the estate I’ll certainly have, because you can get that for me without my troubling my head.”

“Is it a commission, then?” asked the other sharply.

“Of course.  Do you think I speak for the sake of talking?”

And so Perrin received formal instructions to look out for a landed estate; and he was to receive a handsome commission as agent.

Now to settle this affair, and pocket a handsome percentage for himself, he had only to say “Beaurepaire.”