There is yet another difference between the Parisian and the country attorney. An attorney in Paris very seldom appears in court, though he is sometimes called upon to act as arbitrator (référé). Barristers, at the present day, swarm in the provinces; but in 1822 the country attorney very often united the functions of solicitor and counsel. As a result of this double life, the attorney acquired the peculiar intellectual defects of the barrister, and retained the heavy responsibilities of the attorney. He grew talkative and fluent, and lost his lucidity of judgment, the first necessity for the conduct of affairs. If a man of more than ordinary ability tries to do the work of two men, he is apt to find that the two men are mediocrities. The Paris attorney never spends himself in forensic eloquence; and as he seldom attempts to argue for and against, he has some hope of preserving his mental rectitude. It is true that he brings the balista of the law to work, and looks for the weapons in the armory of judicial contradictions, but he keeps his own convictions as to the case, while he does his best to gain the day. In a word, a man loses his head not so much by thinking as by uttering thoughts. The spoken word convinces the utterer; but a man can act against his own bad judgment without warping it, and contrive to win in a bad cause without maintaining that it is a good one, like the barrister. Perhaps for this very reason an old attorney is the more likely of the two to make a good judge.
A country attorney, as we have seen, has plenty of excuses for his mediocrity; he takes up the cause of petty passions, he undertakes pettifogging business, he lives by charging expenses, he strains the Code of procedure and pleads in court. In a word, his weak points are legion; and if by chance you come across a remarkable man practising as a country attorney, he is indeed above the average level.
“I thought, sir, that you sent for me on your own affairs,” said Petit-Claud, and a glance that put an edge on his words fell upon tall Cointet’s impenetrable blue spectacles.
“Let us have no beating about the bush,” returned Boniface Cointet. “Listen to me.”
After that beginning, big with mysterious import, Cointet set himself down upon a bench, and beckoned Petit-Claud to do likewise.
“When M. du Hautoy came to Angoulême in 1804, on his way to his consulship at Valence, he made the acquaintance of Mme. de Senonches, then Mlle. Zéphirine, and had a daughter by her,” added Cointet for the attorney’s ear—“Yes,” he continued, as Petit-Claud gave a start; “yes, and Mlle. Zéphirine’s marriage with M. de Senoches soon followed the birth of the child. The girl was brought up in my mother’s house; she is the Mlle. Françoise de la Haye in whom Mme. de Senoches takes an interest; she is her godmother in the usual style. Now, my mother farmed land belonging to old Mme. de Cardanet, Mlle. Zéphirine’s grandmother; and as she knew the secret of the sole heiress of the Cardanets and the Senonches of the older branch, they made me trustee for the little sum which M. François du Hautoy meant for the girl’s fortune. I made my own fortune with those ten thousand francs, which amount to thirty thousand at the present day. Mme. de Senonches is sure to give the wedding clothes, and some plate and furniture to her goddaughter. Now, I can put you in the way of marrying the girl, my lad,” said Cointet, slapping Petit-Claud on the knee; “and when you marry Françoise de la Haye, you will have a large number of the aristocracy of Angoulême as your clients. This understanding between us (under the rose) will open up magnificent prospects for you. Your position will be as much as anyone could want; in fact, they don’t ask better, I know.”
“What is to be done?” Petit-Claud asked eagerly. “You have an attorney, Maître Cachan—”
“And, moreover, I shall not leave Cachan at once for you; I shall only be your client later on,” said Cointet significantly. “What is to be done, do you ask, my friend? Eh! why, David Séchard’s business. The poor devil has three thousand francs’ worth of bills to meet; he will not meet them; you will stave off legal proceedings in such a way as to increase the expenses enormously. Don’t trouble yourself; go on, pile on items. Doublon, my process-server, will act under Cachan’s directions, and he will lay on like a blacksmith. A word to the wise is sufficient. Now, young man?—”
An eloquent pause followed, and the two men looked at each other.
“We have never seen each other,” Cointet resumed; “I have not said a syllable to you; you know nothing about M. du Hautoy, nor Mme. de Senonches, nor Mlle. de la Haye; only, when the time comes, two months hence, you will propose for the young lady. If we should want to see each other, you will come here after dark. Let us have nothing in writing.”
“Then you mean to ruin Séchard?” asked Petit-Claud.
“Not exactly; but he must be in jail for some time—”
“And what is the object?”
“Do you think that I am noodle enough to tell you that? If you have wit enough to find out, you will have sense enough to hold your tongue.”
“Old Séchard has plenty of money,” said Petit-Claud. He was beginning already to enter into Boniface Cointet’s notions, and foresaw a possible cause of failure.
“So long as the father lives, he will not give his son
