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Updated: June 1, 2025
"With your responsibilities," Petitot muttered through closed teeth. "I should want to know more about him." This from Baudichon. Fabri nodded assent. "I think so," he said. "I really think so. In fact, I may go farther and say that were I in your place, Messer Blondel, I should seize him to-day." "Ay, within the hour!" "This minute!" said Baudichon, last of the three.
Petitot, it is true, limited himself to a smile, and Baudichon shrugged his shoulders. But for the moment the challenge silenced them. The game passed to Blondel's hands, and his spirits rose. "If M. Baudichon wants to know more about him," he said contemptuously, "I dare say that the information can be obtained." "The point is," Fabri answered, "what are we to do?" "As to what?"
From time to time a sigh deep and heart-rending, a sigh that must have melted even Petitot, even Baudichon, swelled his breast; and more than once he raised his eyes to his painted effigy over the mantel, and cast on it a look that claimed the pity of men and Heaven.
Veering about they eyed Baudichon, on whom the odium of the lost opportunity seemed to rest, with resentment as an honest man, but a simpleton, a dullard, a block! And when Blondel added, after a pause, "But there, I have done! The office of Fourth Syndic I leave to you to fill," they barely allowed him to finish. "No! No!" came from almost all mouths, and from every part of the council table.
Almost by this time the remedium might be here. Ay, here, in the palm of his hand! The reflection stabbed Blondel so poignantly, the sense of his folly went so deep, he groaned aloud. That groan fairly won over Baudichon, who was by nature of a kind heart. "Tut, tut," he said; "you must not take it to heart, Messer Blondel. Try again."
You are not looking " he stopped short, in feigned surprise. "There is nothing wrong, I hope?" Had the scholar been such a man as Baudichon, Blondel's answer would have been one frenzied shriek of insults and reproaches.
"Baudichon the councillor, whom all men know in Geneva," he said with an affectionate look at the great man he was proud of the company to which his prowess had raised him. "You will not forget the name! no fear of that! And now on!" "Ay, on!"
With the potion and the man in his possession, he must force the secret from Basterga; force it by threats or promises or aught that would weigh with a man who lay helpless and in a dungeon. It would not be difficult to get the truth in that way: not at all difficult. It seemed, indeed, as if Providence and Fabri and Petitot and Baudichon had arranged to put the man in his power ad hoc.
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