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All that which a man wounded in his self-love could let fall in the shape of imprecations and reproaches upon the head of a woman Porthos let fall upon the bowed head of the procurator's wife. "Alas," said she, "I did all for the best! One of our clients is a horsedealer; he owes money to the office, and is backward in his pay.
"Madame Coquenard," said Porthos, "remember the first letter you wrote me, and which I preserve engraved in my memory." The procurator's wife uttered a groan. "Besides," said she, "the sum you required me to borrow was rather large." "Madame Coquenard, I gave you the preference.
Porthos, without reply, retreated a second step. The procurator's wife fancied she saw him in a brilliant cloud, all surrounded by duchesses and marchionesses, who cast bags of money at his feet. "Stop, in the name of heaven, Monsieur Porthos!" cried she. "Stop, and let us talk." "Talking with you brings me misfortune," said Porthos. "But, tell me, what do you ask?"
This morning the lucky gondoliers divided thirty philippes which they found in the gondola, and they have been fortunate enough to pick up their 'felce'. Pierrot will remember Muran and the ball at Briati. The man says that he is the son of M. de Bragadin, the procurator's brother.
As to my arms, it is useless to trouble you about them; I have them." "A horse for your lackey?" resumed the procurator's wife, hesitatingly; "but that is doing things in lordly style, my friend." "Ah, madame!" said Porthos, haughtily; "do you take me for a beggar?"
The review over, the Guards set forward alone on their march, the Musketeers waiting for the king, which allowed Porthos time to go and take a turn in his superb equipment in the Rue aux Ours. The procurator's wife saw him pass in his new uniform and on his fine horse. She loved Porthos too dearly to allow him to part thus; she made him a sign to dismount and come to her.
She is pretending to be silly and not understanding; so she is probably guilty." Again the handcuffs and the degrading rope were fastened upon her. She felt that she had already been condemned. "May I send word to my friends?" she asked. Surely even the Fujinami would not abandon her to her fate. "No. The procurator's examination has not yet taken place.
"Monsieur Porthos," said the procurator's wife, "will you have the kindness to offer me your arm for five minutes? I have something to say to you." "Certainly, madame," said Porthos, winking to himself, as a gambler does who laughs at the dupe he is about to pluck. At that moment d'Artagnan passed in pursuit of Milady; he cast a passing glance at Porthos, and beheld this triumphant look.
"The procurator's spoiled a'," observed Ratcliffe, drily. And it was even so; for the question, put in so direct a shape, immediately awakened Madge to the propriety of being reserved upon those very topics on which Ratcliffe had indirectly seduced her to become communicative.
Pontius Pilate and his superior, the Legate of Syria, were both directly responsible to Tiberius Caesar. Pilate was Caesar's officer under military direction. Military methods characterised the procurator's rule. To a man placed as Pilate, the notion of a ruler independent of fighting supporters, and that in territory held down by force of arms, was simply absurd.
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