The Count's Millions [61]
two rooms, I shall be obliged to sell part of it. What a blessed nuisance!"
As soon as he was dressed he started off on his mission; and M. Casimir, who dared not return to the house, began walking slowly to and fro in front of the lodge. He had made some thirty turns or so, and was beginning to feel impatient, when he saw Victor Chupin approaching. "You are always on hand at the right moment," remarked M. Casimir. "It's all over!"
Chupin turned eagerly. "Then our bargain holds?" he exclaimed. "You understand what I mean--the funeral, you know."
"It isn't certain that I shall have anything to do with it; but call again in three hours from now."
"All right, I'll be here."
"And M. Fortunat?" asked Casimir.
"He received what he called a 'violent shock' last evening, but he's better this morning. He instructed me to tell you that he should look for you between twelve and one--you know where."
"I'll endeavor to be there, although it may be difficult for me to get away. If I go, however, I'll show him the letter that caused the count's illness; for the count threw it away, after tearing it into several pieces, and I found some of the bits which escaped his notice as well as mademoiselle's. It's a strange letter, upon my word!"
Chupin gazed at the valet with a look of mingled wonder and admiration. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "how fortunate a man must be to secure a valet like you!"
His companion smiled complacently, but all of a sudden he remarked: "Make haste and go. I see Bourigeau in the distance, bringing the justice of the peace."
VII.
The magistrate who was now approaching the Chalusse mansion in the concierge's company, exemplified in a remarkable manner all the ideas that are awakened in one's mind by the grand yet simple title of "Justice of the Peace." He was the very person you would like to think of as the family magistrate; as the promoter of friendly feeling; as the guardian of the rights of the absent, the young, and the weak; as the just arbiter in unfortunate differences between those who are closely related; a sage of wide experience and boundless benevolence; a judge whose paternal justice dispenses with all pomp and display, and who is allowed by French statutes to hold his court by his own fireside, providing the doors stand open. He was considerably over fifty, tall, and very thin, with bent shoulders. His clothes were rather old- fashioned in cut, but by no means ridiculous. The expression of his face was gentleness itself; but it would not have done to presume upon this gentleness, for his glance was keen and piercing--like the glance of all who are expert in diving into consciences, and discovering the secrets hidden there. Moreover, like all men who are accustomed to deliberate in public, his features were expressionless. He could see and hear everything, suspect and understand everything, without letting a muscle of his face move. And yet the habitues of his audience-chamber, and his clerks, pretended that they could always detect the nature of his impressions. A ring which he wore upon one of his fingers served as a barometer for those who knew him. If a difficult case, or one that embarrassed his conscience, presented itself, his eyes fixed themselves obstinately upon this ring. If he were satisfied that everything was right, he looked up again, and began playing with the ring, slipping it up and down between the first and second joint of his finger; but if he were displeased, he abruptly turned the bezel inside.
In appearance, he was sufficiently imposing to intimidate even M. Casimir. The proud valet bowed low as the magistrate approached, and with his heart in his mouth, and in an obsequious voice he said: "It was I who took the liberty of sending for you, monsieur."
"Ah!" said the magistrate, who already knew as much about the Hotel de Chalusse, and the events of the past twelve hours, as M. Casimir himself; for on his way to the house, he had turned Bourigeau inside out like a glove, by means of a dozen gentle questions.
"If monsieur
As soon as he was dressed he started off on his mission; and M. Casimir, who dared not return to the house, began walking slowly to and fro in front of the lodge. He had made some thirty turns or so, and was beginning to feel impatient, when he saw Victor Chupin approaching. "You are always on hand at the right moment," remarked M. Casimir. "It's all over!"
Chupin turned eagerly. "Then our bargain holds?" he exclaimed. "You understand what I mean--the funeral, you know."
"It isn't certain that I shall have anything to do with it; but call again in three hours from now."
"All right, I'll be here."
"And M. Fortunat?" asked Casimir.
"He received what he called a 'violent shock' last evening, but he's better this morning. He instructed me to tell you that he should look for you between twelve and one--you know where."
"I'll endeavor to be there, although it may be difficult for me to get away. If I go, however, I'll show him the letter that caused the count's illness; for the count threw it away, after tearing it into several pieces, and I found some of the bits which escaped his notice as well as mademoiselle's. It's a strange letter, upon my word!"
Chupin gazed at the valet with a look of mingled wonder and admiration. "By Jove!" he exclaimed, "how fortunate a man must be to secure a valet like you!"
His companion smiled complacently, but all of a sudden he remarked: "Make haste and go. I see Bourigeau in the distance, bringing the justice of the peace."
VII.
The magistrate who was now approaching the Chalusse mansion in the concierge's company, exemplified in a remarkable manner all the ideas that are awakened in one's mind by the grand yet simple title of "Justice of the Peace." He was the very person you would like to think of as the family magistrate; as the promoter of friendly feeling; as the guardian of the rights of the absent, the young, and the weak; as the just arbiter in unfortunate differences between those who are closely related; a sage of wide experience and boundless benevolence; a judge whose paternal justice dispenses with all pomp and display, and who is allowed by French statutes to hold his court by his own fireside, providing the doors stand open. He was considerably over fifty, tall, and very thin, with bent shoulders. His clothes were rather old- fashioned in cut, but by no means ridiculous. The expression of his face was gentleness itself; but it would not have done to presume upon this gentleness, for his glance was keen and piercing--like the glance of all who are expert in diving into consciences, and discovering the secrets hidden there. Moreover, like all men who are accustomed to deliberate in public, his features were expressionless. He could see and hear everything, suspect and understand everything, without letting a muscle of his face move. And yet the habitues of his audience-chamber, and his clerks, pretended that they could always detect the nature of his impressions. A ring which he wore upon one of his fingers served as a barometer for those who knew him. If a difficult case, or one that embarrassed his conscience, presented itself, his eyes fixed themselves obstinately upon this ring. If he were satisfied that everything was right, he looked up again, and began playing with the ring, slipping it up and down between the first and second joint of his finger; but if he were displeased, he abruptly turned the bezel inside.
In appearance, he was sufficiently imposing to intimidate even M. Casimir. The proud valet bowed low as the magistrate approached, and with his heart in his mouth, and in an obsequious voice he said: "It was I who took the liberty of sending for you, monsieur."
"Ah!" said the magistrate, who already knew as much about the Hotel de Chalusse, and the events of the past twelve hours, as M. Casimir himself; for on his way to the house, he had turned Bourigeau inside out like a glove, by means of a dozen gentle questions.
"If monsieur