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Updated: May 15, 2025
And I am not much of a Samson, your Honor. I could not pull the Chateau down upon their heads I wish I could!" Master Pothier's fears did not appear ill-grounded to Philibert as a fresh burst of drunken uproar assailed his ears. "Wait my return," said he, "I will knock on the door myself." He left his guide, ran up the broad stone steps, and knocked loudly upon the door again and again!
Philibert could not but smile at the travelling notary, and thinking to himself, "too much Cognac at the end of that nose of yours, my friend!" which, indeed, looked fiery as Bardolph's, with hardly a spot for a fly to rest his foot upon without burning. "But how will you go, friend?" asked Philibert, looking down at Master Pothier's gamaches; "you don't look like a fast walker."
Master Pothier's nose, sharp and fiery as if dipped in red ink, almost touched the sheet of paper on the table before him, as he wrote down from the dictation of Dame Bedard the articles of a marriage contract between her pretty daughter, Zoe, and Antoine La Chance, the son of a comfortable but keen widow of Beauport.
"What, in his mouth, Master Pothier?" "None of your quips, Jean; keep cool!" Master Pothier's own face grew red. "Never ring the coin that is a gift, and do not stretch my comparisons like your own wit to a bare thread. If I had said in his mouth, what then? It was by word of mouth, I warrant you, that he carried him away from Beaumanoir. Pity he is not here to take him away from the Tilly Arms!"
Master Pothier's acuteness in picking holes in the actes of a rival notary was only surpassed by the elaborate intricacy of his own, which he boasted, not without reason, would puzzle the Parliament of Paris, and confound the ingenuity of the sharpest advocates of Rouen.
"Now give me your arm, Max! and with Master Pothier's on the other side, I shall walk to the Fleur-de-Lis straight as a steeple."
Pothier's imagination fell into a vision over a consideration of his favorite text that of the great sheet, wherein was all manner of flesh and fowl good for food, but the tongue of the old notary would trip at the name of Peter, and perversely say, "Rise, Pothier; kill, and eat."
Master Pothier's eyes winked and blinked in sympathy. The old notary stood on tiptoe, with outspread palms, as with ore rotundo he threw in a few notes of his own to fill up the chorus. Philibert cast upon his guide a look of scorn, biting his lip angrily. "Go," said he, "knock at the door it needs God's thunder to break in upon that infamous orgie.
Master Pothier's actes were as full of embryo disputes as a fig is full of seeds, and usually kept all parties in hot water and litigation for the rest of their days. If he did happen now and then to settle a dispute between neighbors, he made ample amends for it by setting half the rest of the parish by the ears.
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