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His silent, gloomy endurance was almost an affront to Pontiac; and if the wiser ones, the Cure, the Avocat, the Little Chemist, and Medallion, were more sorry than offended, they stood aloof till the man should in some manner redeem himself, and repent of his horrid blasphemy. But one person persistently defied Church and people, Cure and voyageur.
She had heard of De la Riviere's visit to Valmond, and she intended sending for him, but delayed it. The avocat told her nothing: matters were in abeyance, and she abided the issue; meanwhile getting news of the sick man twice a day. More, she used all her influence to keep up the feeling for him in the country, to prevent flagging of enthusiasm.
The avocat rubbed his hands in pleasure. He instantly divined one who knew his subject, though he talked this melodramatically: a thing not uncommon among the habitants and the professional story-tellers, but scarcely the way of the coterie. "Ah, yes, yes," he said, "for ? monsieur, for ?" He paused, as if to give himself the delight of hearing their visitor speak.
"Je ne veux pas d'un avocat, Je ne veux pas d'un avocat, Car ils aiment trop les ducats, Car ils aiment trop les ducats, Ils trompent les fillettes, Ma luron, ma lurette, Ils trompent les fillettes, Ma luron, ma lure." "Eliminating Mr. Ritchie, I believe," said Nick, turning on me with a grimace. "But hark again!"
You'll find me at the Louis Quinze," he added, before De la Riviere, choking with wrath, could do more than get to his feet; and, wheeling, he left the room. The young Seigneur would have followed him, but the avocat laid a restraining hand upon his arm, and Medallion said: "Dear Seigneur, see, you can't fight him. The parish would only laugh."
The man must be saved; our Cure shall have his fees; our druggist shall provide the finest essences for the feast no more pills. And we shall dine with our Avocat once a week with asparagus in season for the Cure, and a little good wine for all. Ha!" His Ha! was never a laugh; it was unctuous, abrupt, an ejaculation of satisfaction, knowledge, solid enjoyment, final solution.
Presently the Cure asked, as if from a great distance, so meditative was his voice: "Who will be the woman, Medallion?" "I've got one in my eye the very right one for our Avocat; not here, not out of Pontiac, but from St. Jean in the hills fulfilling your verses, gentle apothecary.
It was there, in the neighbourhood of the Catholic Club of which he had just been made honorary president that M. Le Merquier lived. He was avocat, deputy for Lyons, business man of all the great communities of France; and Hemerlingue, moved by a deep-seated instinct, had intrusted him with the affairs of his firm.
Ah, Misther Garon, pity a poor woman that has to live wid the loikes o' that!" The Avocat still did not speak. He turned his face away and looked out of the window, where his eyes could see the little house on the hill, which to-day had the Union Jack flying in honour of some battle or victory, dear to Kilquhanity's heart.
Every one expected that the Avocat or the Little Chemist would rise; but while they looked at each other, waiting and sorrowful, and the Avocat's fingers fluttered to the seat in front of him, to draw himself up, a voice came from the corner opposite, saying: "M'sieu' le Cure, I will go."
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