"Monsieur forgives me?" he said. "Perhaps I should have said nothing; the police have their ways. They may ask questions without malice. And yet one feels the difference between an honest man and a spy. Well, I could have laughed, if I did not hate the fellow. As if the talk of a few honest gentlemen could hurt the State!"
"Some day I hope it will," said Monsieur Joseph, coolly. "When the rising comes, Joubard, you will be on the right side--if only to avenge your sons, my good man!"
Joubard opened his eyes wider, hesitated, pushed his fingers through his bushy hair.
"Me, monsieur! The rising! But, monsieur, I never said I was a Chouan! I am afraid of some of them, though not of you, monsieur. They are people who can be dangerous. A rising, you said! Then--"
"Don"t talk of it now," said Monsieur Joseph, impatiently.
As he spoke, little Henriette came round the corner of the house with some blue feathers in her hand. Tobie had been out shooting, making havoc among the wild birds, large and small, and sparing the squirrels, with regret, to please his master. Owls, kites, rooks, magpies, jays, thrushes, finches; those that were eatable went into pies, and the prettiest feathers were dressed and made into plumes for Mademoiselle Henriette. She was fond of adorning her straw bonnet with jay"s feathers, which, as her uncle Urbain remarked, gave her the appearance of one of Monsieur de Chateaubriand"s squaws. "See, papa, what Tobie has brought me," she cried. "Good evening, Maitre Joubard! How are your chickens? and when will the vintage begin?"
Joubard would gladly have entered on a lengthy gossip with Mademoiselle Henriette, but Monsieur Joseph, with a shortness very unlike him, brought the interview to an end.
"You must not keep Maitre Joubard now," he said. "It is late, and he must get back to the farm. Bonsoir, Joubard."
The farmer waved his large hat. "Bonsoir, la compagnie!" and with a smile departed.
As he pa.s.sed the stables, Tobie, still carrying his gun, slipped out and joined him.
"Anything wrong with the master, Tobie?" said the old man, curiously.
"His tongue has an edge to it this evening; he is not like himself."
"I think I know," said Tobie, and they strolled together up the lane.
"Go to bed, my child," said Monsieur Joseph to his little daughter. "It is too damp now for you to be out-of-doors. Yes, very pretty feathers.
Good night, mon pet.i.t chou!"
Riette flung herself upon him and hugged him like a young bear.
"Ah," he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "and is this the way to behave to one"s respected father? Do you suppose, now, that Mesdemoiselles de Sainfoy crush their parents to death like this?"
"I dare say not," said Riette, with another hug and a shower of kisses.
"But their parents are grand people. They have not a little bijou of a papa like mine. And as for their mamma, she is a cardboard sort of woman."
"All that does not matter. Manners should be the same, whether people are tall or short, great or humble. You know nothing about it, my poor Riette."
"Nor do you!"
"It is becoming plain to me that you must be sent to learn manners."
"Where?"
"Go to bed at once. I must think about it. There, child--enough--I am tired this evening."
"Ah, you have had so many visitors to-day, and that old Joubard is a chatterbox."
"And he is not the only one in the world. Go--do you hear me?"
The child went. He heard her light feet scampering upstairs, clattering merrily about on the boards overhead. He sat very still. The glow in the east deepened, spreading a lurid glory over the dark velvety stillness of the woods. Crickets sang and curlews cried in the meadow, and the long ghostly hoot of an owl trembled through the motionless air. Joseph de la Mariniere leaned his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his hands, and gazed up thus into the wild autumnal sky.
"What would become of her!" he said to himself.
He was not long alone. Angelot and his dog came lightly up through the shadows, and while the dog strayed off to join his favourites among the dark guards who lay round the house, the young man sat down beside his uncle.
Though with a mind full of his own matters, Angelot was sympathetic enough to feel and to wonder at the little uncle"s depression. After a word or two on indifferent things--the storm, the marvellous sky--he said to him, "Has anything happened to worry you?"
Monsieur Joseph did not answer at once, and this was very unlike him.
"It is the thunder, perhaps?" said Angelot, cheerfully. "A tree was struck near us. My mother is spending the evening in church."
"And your father?"
"He is at Lancilly, playing boston."
"Why are you not with him?"
"Why should I be? I--I prefer a talk with my dear uncle."
"Ah! you ask if anything worries me, Angelot. Three or four things.
First--I had a visit this morning from Cesar d"Ombre. He had his breakfast in peace this time, poor fellow."
Angelot smiled, rather absently. "What had he to say?"
"Nothing special. The time is not quite ripe--I think they realised that the other day."
"I hope so," murmured Angelot.
"Hope what you please," said his uncle, with sudden irritation. "The time will come in spite of you all, remember. I, for one, shall not long be able to endure this abominable system of spying."
"What do you mean?" said Angelot, staring at him.
"This is what I mean. The instant d"Ombre was gone--while he was here, in fact--that fellow, the Prefect"s jackal, was prowling round the stables and asking questions of Tobie. Some silly excuse--pretended he had lost a strap the other day. Asked which of my friends was here--asked if they often came, if they were generally expected.
Suggested that Les Chouettes was well provided with hiding-places, as well for arms as for men. I don"t think he made much out of Tobie; he is as solid as an old oak, with a spark of wit in the middle of his thick head. From his own account, he very nearly kicked him off the premises."
"What? that man Simon? I don"t like him either, but was it not a little dangerous to treat him so? He is more than a gendarme, I think; he is an _agent de police_."
"I don"t care what he is, nor does Tobie. He had better come to me with his impertinent questions. And I am angry with De Mauves. I suppose the rascal would not prowl about here without his orders. Of course it was he who found out everything the other day. I did not notice or know him at the time, but the servants tell me he is, as you say, a well-known police spy. Well, after what De Mauves said to you, I should have expected him to leave me in peace. I would rather have one thing or the other--be arrested or let alone. I say, this spying system is ungentlemanly, ungenerous, and utterly contemptible and abominable."
Monsieur Joseph rapped hard on the table, then took a pinch of snuff with much energy, folded his arms, and looked fiercely into Angelot"s downcast face.
"I can hardly think the Prefect sent him," the young man said.
"Why should he act without his master"s orders? In any case I shall have it out with De Mauves. Well, well, other annoyances followed, and I had half forgotten the rascal, your father being here, and the rain coming in at the roof and running down the stairs, when behold Joubard, to tell me the story over again!"
"What story?"
"Mille tonnerres! Angelot, you are very dull to-day. Why, the Simon story, of course. The fellow paid Joubard a visit on his way to us, it seems, and asked a thousand questions about me and my concerns--what visitors of mine pa.s.sed La Joubardiere on their way here, and so forth.
He tried to make it all appear friendly gossip, so as to put Joubard off his guard, though knowing very well that the old man knew who he was."