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Updated: May 19, 2025
M. Magloire's face became darker and darker. "I am not often accused of partiality," he said. "Count Claudieuse is, perhaps, the only enemy I have in this country; but he is a bitter, fierce enemy. To keep me out of the chamber, and to prevent my obtaining many votes, he stooped to acts unworthy of a gentleman. I do not like him.
Your uncle never stays away from high mass: go with him to church. But be careful, control yourself. A single imprudence, one blunder, and I should despise you. Now we must part. You will find in Paris a letter from me." Jacques paused here, looking to read in M. Magloire's face what impression his recital had produced so far. But the famous lawyer remained impassive. He sighed, and continued,
"I am entirely at M. Magloire's service," he said. The famous advocate of Sauveterre considered a while. After a few moments he turned to his young colleague, and asked him, "Have you any plan? Any idea? What would you do?" To the astonishment of all, M. Folgat now revealed his true character to some extent.
Dionysia had only come down later; and her grandfather could not help noticing that she had dressed more carefully than usual. "Are we not going to see Jacques again?" she replied with a smile full of confidence and joy. She had actually persuaded herself that one word from Jacques would suffice to convince the celebrated lawyer, and that he would reappear triumphant on M. Magloire's arm.
"Oh, wait!" cried Jacques. "I am quite sure, at all events, that I killed that rabbit at the first shot. Consequently, I can have fouled only one barrel of the gun. If I have used the same barrel at Valpinson, to get a light, I am safe. With a double gun, one almost instinctively first uses the right-hand barrel." M. Magloire's face grew darker.
In a twinkling, with all the vivacity of an alert old woman, Madame Magloire had rushed to the oratory, entered the alcove, and returned to the Bishop. The Bishop had just bent down, and was sighing as he examined a plant of cochlearia des Guillons, which the basket had broken as it fell across the bed. He rose up at Madame Magloire's cry. "Monseigneur, the man is gone!
Advocate, to work, I say. Come, shall we go?" They were leaving the room when M. de Chandore called them back by a gesture. He said, "So far, gentlemen, we have thought of Jacques alone. And Dionysia?" The others looked at him, full of surprise. "What am I to say if she asks me what the result of M. Magloire's interview with Jacques has been, and why you would say nothing in her presence?" Dr.
Jules Chicot, the innkeeper, who lived at Épreville, pulled up his tilbury in front of Mother Magloire's farmhouse. He was a tall man of about forty, with a red face and a round stomach, and was generally said to be a very knowing customer. He hitched his horse up to the gatepost and went in.
He was a tall man of forty or thereabout, this Jules Chicot, the innkeeper of Spreville, with a red face and a round stomach, and said by those who knew him to be a smart business man. He stopped his buggy in front of Mother Magloire's farmhouse, and, hitching the horse to the gatepost, went in at the gate.
"I said to myself, 'The countess wants to be a widow." All of M. Magloire's blood seemed to rise in his face. He cried, "Unhappy man! How can you dare accuse the Countess Claudieuse of such a crime?" Indignation gave Jacques strength to reply, "Whom else should I accuse?
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