“The old notary, sir, had gone to Paris to put a stop to the young man’s extravagance.”
“I have not yet examined the Comte d’Esgrignon,” Camusot began; “his answers will point out my duty.”
“Is he in close custody?”
“Yes.”
“Sir,” said Chesnel, seeing danger ahead, “the examination can be made in our interests or against them. But there are two courses open to you: you can establish the fact on Mme. du Croisier’s deposition that the amount was deposited with her before the bill was drawn; or you can examine the unfortunate young man implicated in this affair, and he in his confusion may remember nothing and commit himself. You will decide which is the more credible—a slip of memory on the part of a woman in her ignorance of business, or a forgery committed by a d’Esgrignon.”
“All this is beside the point,” began Camusot; “the question is, whether M. le Comte d’Esgrignon has or has not used the lower half of a letter addressed to him by du Croisier as a bill of exchange.”
“Eh! and so he might,” a voice cried suddenly, as Mme. Camusot broke in, followed by the handsome stranger, “so he might, when M. Chesnel had advanced the money to meet the bill—”
She leant over her husband.
“You will have the first vacant appointment as assistant judge at Paris, you are serving the King himself in this affair; I have proof of it; you will not be forgotten,” she said, lowering her voice for his ear. “This young man that you see here is the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse; you must never have seen her, and do all that you can for the young Count boldly.”
“Gentlemen,” said Camusot, “even if the preliminary examination is conducted to prove the young Count’s innocence, can I answer for the view the court may take? M. Chesnel, and you also, my sweet, know what M. le Président wants.”
“Tut, tut, tut!” said Mme. Camusot, “go yourself to M. Michu this morning, and tell him that the Count has been arrested; you will be two against two in that case, I will be bound. Michu comes from Paris, and you know he is devoted to the noblesse. Good blood cannot lie.”
At that very moment Mlle. Cadot’s voice was heard in the doorway. She had brought a note, and was waiting for an answer. Camusot went out, and came back again to read the note aloud:
“M. le Vice-Président begs M. Camusot to sit in audience today and for the next few days, so that there may be a quorum during M. le Président’s absence.”
“Then there is an end of the preliminary examination!” cried Mme. Camusot. “Did I not tell you, dear, that they would play you some ugly trick? The President has gone off to slander you to the public prosecutor and the President of the Court-Royal. You will be changed before you can make the examination. Is that clear?”
“You will stay, monsieur,” said the Duchess. “The public prosecutor is coming, I hope, in time.”
“When the public prosecutor arrives,” little Mme. Camusot said, with some heat, “he must find all over.—Yes, my dear, yes,” she added, looking full at her amazed husband.—“Ah! old hypocrite of a President, you are setting your wits against us; you shall remember it! You have a mind to help us to a dish of your own making, you shall have two served up to you by your humble servant Cécile Amélie Thirion!—Poor old Blondet! It is lucky for him that the President has taken this journey to turn us out, for now that great oaf of a Joseph Blondet will marry Mlle. Blandureau. I will let Father Blondet have some seeds in return.—As for you, Camusot, go to M. Michu’s, while Mme. la Duchesse and I will go to find old Blondet. You must expect to hear it said all over the town tomorrow that I took a walk with a lover this morning.”
Mme. Camusot took the Duchess’ arm, and they went through the town by deserted streets to avoid any unpleasant adventure on the way to the old Vice-President’s house. Chesnel meanwhile conferred with the young Count in prison; Camusot had arranged a stolen interview. Cook-maids, servants, and the other early risers of a country town, seeing Mme. Camusot and the Duchess taking their way through the back streets, took the young gentleman for an adorer from Paris. That evening, as Cécile Amélie had said, the news of her behavior was circulated about the town, and more than one scandalous rumor was occasioned thereby. Mme. Camusot and her supposed lover found old Blondet in his greenhouse. He greeted his colleague’s wife and her companion, and gave the charming young man a keen, uneasy glance.
“I have the honor to introduce one of my husband’s cousins,” said Mme. Camusot, bringing forward the Duchess; “he is one of the most distinguished horticulturists in Paris; and as he cannot spend more than one day with us, on his way back from Brittany, and has heard of your flowers and plants, I have taken the liberty of coming early.”
“Oh, the gentleman is a horticulturist, is he?” said the old Blondet.
The Duchess bowed.
“This is my coffee-plant,” said Blondet, “and here is a tea-plant.”
“What can have taken M. le Président away from home?” put in Mme. Camusot. “I will wager that his absence concerns M. Camusot.”
“Exactly.—This, monsieur, is the queerest of all cactuses,” he continued, producing a flowerpot which appeared to contain a piece of mildewed rattan; “it comes from Australia. You are very young, sir, to be a horticulturist.”
“Dear M. Blondet, never mind your flowers,” said Mme. Camusot. “You are concerned, you and your hopes, and your son’s marriage with Mlle. Blandureau. You are
