It could not be said that he looked stupid; but neither did he look intelligent.  Every thing in him was ordinary, indifferent, and undecided.  Not one marked feature.  He would necessarily pass unobserved, and be forgotten as soon as he had passed.

“You find me busy securing my crops for the winter,” he said to M. Folgat.  “A pleasant job.  However, I am at your service.  Let me put these three bunches into their three bags, and I’ll come down.”

This was the work of an instant; and, as soon as he had reached the ground, he turned round, and asked,—­

“Well, and what do you think of my garden?”

And at once he begged M. Folgat to visit his domain, and, with all the enthusiasm of the land-owner, he praised the flavor of his duchess pears, the bright colors of his dahlias, the new arrangements in his poultry-yard, which was full of rabbit-houses, and the beauty of his pond, with its ducks of all colors and all possible varieties.

In his heart, M. Folgat swore at this enthusiasm.  What time he was losing!  But, when you expect a service from a man, you must, at least, flatter his weak side.  He did not spare praise, therefore.  He even pulled out his cigar-case, and, still with a view to win the great man’s good graces, he offered it to him, saying,—­

“Can I offer you one?”

“Thanks!  I never smoke,” replied Goudar.

And, when he saw the astonishment of the advocate, he explained,—­

“At least not at home.  I am disposed to think the odor is unpleasant to my wife.”

Positively, if M. Folgat had not known the man, he would have taken him for some good and simple retired grocer, inoffensive, and any thing but bright, and, bowing to him politely, he would have taken his leave.  But he had seen him at work; and so he followed him obediently to his greenhouse, his melon-house, and his marvellous asparagus-beds.

At last Goudar took his guest to the end of the garden, to a bower in which were some chairs and a table, saying,—­

“Now let us sit down, and tell me your business; for I know you did not come solely for the pleasure of seeing my domain.”

Goudar was one of those men who have heard in their lives more confessions than ten priests, ten lawyers, and ten doctors all together.  You could tell him every thing.  Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, and without a break, M. Folgat told him the whole story of Jacques and the Countess Claudieuse.  He listened, without saying a word, without moving a muscle in his face.  When the lawyer had finished, he simply said,—­

“Well?”

“First of all,” replied M. Folgat, “I should like to hear your opinion.  Do you believe the statement made by M. de Boiscoran?”

“Why not?  I have seen much stranger cases than that.”

“Then you think, that, in spite of the charges brought against him, we must believe in his innocence?”