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Updated: June 13, 2025
They were poor, too, and had to be careful of their little bits of money. But they all had vegetables and milk and eggs and butter, and if every one had helped a little, as they ought, for he was always doing kind things for them, Saint Rigobert would not have gone hungry so often. It made the Bishop sorry to find them so careless, but he never complained.
I went leisurely upon the way towards his studio, and at the corner by the Madeleine I entered the post office to obtain a stamp for a letter I had to send. The first thing which I perceived as I opened the door was the back of Rigobert, as he sprawled against the counter, signing his name upon a form while the clerk counted out money to him.
If she refused, the alternative would be an appeal to the authorities and a public scandal. She accepted the money, and left the house. On her way back to England she appears to have stopped at Metz. You will understand what sort of woman she is when I tell you that she was seen the other day in a tavern, with your handsome groom, Joseph Rigobert."
Garnache took the proffered chair, and sank down with creak and jingle to warm himself at the fire. "From what you have said, I gather that you are Monsieur Marius de Condillac," said he. "I, as you may have heard me announced by your servant, am Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache at your service."
Perhaps he had noticed how pale and hollow Saint Rigobert's cheeks were, and half guessed the cause. At all events he said kindly: "I pray thee, stay and dine with us, thou and the boy yonder. See, the meat is ready, and there is room for many more at table." But Saint Rigobert had a service to hold in the church at Gernicour, and knew they had barely time to reach home if they walked briskly.
The lamentable voice called out on me again, "Rigobert! Rigobert!" My fair friend caught me by the arm. "Who is he?" she cried. "What is his name?" Something in her face struck me as she put that question. A spasm of jealousy shook me to the soul. "You know him?" I said. "His name!" she vehemently repeated; "his name!" "Francis," I answered. "Francis what?" I shrugged my shoulders.
Perhaps he was secretly glad that the poor goose had escaped; for he was very tender-hearted and loved not to have creatures killed, even for food. They had gone quite a little distance, and Rigobert began to sing louder and louder as they neared his church. When suddenly there came a strange sound in the air over his head.
"Par la mort Dieu!" swore Marius, taken utterly aback. "What may your name be you who hitherto have had no French?" Almost thrusting mademoiselle aside, Garnache stood out to face him, the flush of hot anger showing through the dye on his cheeks. "My name," said he, "is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache, and my business now to make an end of one at least of this obscene brood of Condillac."
"'But, said the other, 'this was the day you appointed, M'sieur. You said, 'Bring your bill to me on the 13th, and I will pay it. Here is the bill." "He plunged his hand into his breast pocket and fumbled with papers. Rigobert examined me rapidly. But the spell was broken, and I was myself again master of my emotions, and of the thousand francs. He saw that it was hopeless and rose.
But it all came right, just as the Bishop had said it would. I must tell you about that. For when Rigobert returned from church that same day feeling very faint and hungry indeed, after the long walk and the excitement of the goose-hap, Pierre came running out to meet him with a smiling face. "Oh Father, Father!" he cried. "We are to have a dinner, after all.
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