He accused himself of not being inspired with the “holy fire,” and, as he expressed it in his own way, “of robbing Themis of all the time he could, to devote it to the friendly Muses.”  He was a passionate lover of fine books, rare editions, costly bindings, and fine illustrations; and much the larger part of his annual income of about ten thousand francs went to buying books.  A scholar of the old-fashioned type, he professed boundless admiration for Virgil and Juvenal, but, above all, for Horace, and proved his devotion by constant quotations.

Roused, like everybody else in the midst of his slumbers, this excellent man hastened to put on his clothes, when his old housekeeper came in, quite excited, and told him that M. Seneschal was there, and wanted to see him.

“Show him in!” he said, “show him in!”

And, as soon as the mayor entered, he continued:—­

“For you will be able to tell me the meaning of all this noise, this beating of drums,—­

“‘Clamorque, virum, clangorque tubarum.’”

“A terrible misfortune has happened,” answered the mayor.  From the tone of his voice one might have imagined it was he himself who had been afflicted; and the lawyer was so strongly impressed in this way, that he said,—­

“My dear friend, what is the matter? Quid? Courage, my friend, keep cool!  Remember that the poet advises us, in misfortune never to lose our balance of mind:—­

     “’AEquam, memento, rebus in arduis,
     Sevare mentem.’”

“Incendiaries have set Valpinson on fire!” broke in the mayor.

“You do not say so?  Great God!

     “’Jupiter,
     Quod verbum audio.’”

“More than that.  Count Claudieuse has been shot, and by this time he is probably dead.”

“Oh!”

“You hear the drummer is beating the alarm.  I am going to the fire; and I have only come here to report the matter officially to you, and to ask you to see to it that justice be done promptly and energetically.”

There was no need of such a serious appeal to stop at once all the lawyer’s quotations.

“Enough!” he said eagerly.  “Come, let us take measures to catch the wretches.”

When they reached National Street, it was as full as at mid-day; for Sauveterre is one of those rare provincial towns in which an excitement is too rare a treat to be neglected.  The sad event had by this time become fully known everywhere.  At first the news had been doubted; but when the doctor’s cab had passed the crowd at full speed, escorted by a peasant on horseback, the reports were believed.  Nor had the firemen lost time.  As soon as the mayor and M. Daubigeon appeared on New-Market Square, Capt.  Parenteau rushed up to them, and, touching his helmet with a military salute, said,—­

“My men are ready.”

“All?”

“There are hardly ten absentees.  When they heard that Count and Countess Claudieuse were in need—­great heavens!—­you know, they all were ready in a moment.”