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Updated: May 5, 2025
They have paid me for my place, have not they? Well, I mean to go." "You are a fool!" his wife had replied. "As long as M. de Boiscoran is a prisoner there is a chance of profit. You don't know how rich those Chandores are. You ought to stay." Like many other husbands, Blangin fancied he was master in his own house. He remonstrated. He swore to make the ceiling fall down upon him.
He had paid a fearful penalty for what, in the eyes of so many men, is but a trifling wrong. When they reached the street in which the Chandores lived, M. Folgat said to his client, "They do not expect you, I am sure. Go slowly, while I go ahead to prepare them."
He is a friend of ours; and, if any one is well informed, he is. Let us go to him. Come." M. Seneschal was indeed a friend of the Chandores, the Lavarandes, and also of the Boiscorans. Although he was a lawyer he had become attached to the people whose confidential adviser he had been for more than twenty years.
The building is quite new, massive but ugly, and has at the side a pretentious little tower with a peaked roof, which Dr. Seignebos calls a perpetual menace of the feudal system. It is true the Chandores once upon a time were great feudal lords, and for a long time exhibited a profound contempt for all who could not boast of noble ancestors and a deep hatred of revolutionary ideas.
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