Part 41 (2/2)
Loud, snarling talk of their precious liberty and the way in which they meant to earn it.
Ha, ha! They were beginning to find that out in Brittany too.
They had heard, even in Paris, how the aristocrats of St. Malo and Vannes--ay, and Nantes too--were learning that their day was done. And so, being Bretons themselves, they had come home to join in the fun, and teach their comrades and brothers how the work went in Paris.
Click! click! click! But there were plenty of ways to exterminate vermin besides taking them to the arms of the ”widow.”
Jean Gouicket and his friends listened agape, not sure whether to applaud or s.h.i.+ver, the former sweating in sudden fear when the great Trouet bellowed for more wine of a better flavour.
A threat underlay the command, and the trembling Gouicket made haste to obey, though it was gall and wormwood to the worthy man to bring to these vaurien comrades the wine which Monsieur le Comte, or M'nsieur l'Abbe would pay a big price for.
Before he returned Marcel had been joined by a stranger--a heavy-faced, ill-looking fellow with a tangle of rough hair, and wearing the sleeveless coat and plaited trousers of a Breton peasant.
But Marcel evidently found him amusing, for he did not even fill his gla.s.s with the wine Gouicket placed, with reverent fingers and very great reluctance, by his side.
”Your name, my friend?” he was asking.
”Bertrand Manseau. A good Republican.”
”ca, ca. And you come from Kernak?”
The man spat and cursed the name before acquiescing.
”It is the place of aristos?”
”Yes, citoyen. But not for long I hope.”
His cunning little black eyes blinked with satisfaction.
”All in good time, all in good time. You know Varenac?”
”Si. How could it be otherwise? I have lived between Kernak and Varenac all my life.”
”And what have you to say of Varenac?”
”It is a place of fools.”
”Ha, ha! Does that mean also of aristos?”
”There is one; that is sufficient.”
”But the old aristo died. He who has now come is a good citizen.”
Bertrand's face was livid with rage.
”A good citizen! Mille diables! A _good citizen_. What! the new Marquis who came last week from England? Nom d'un chien, Citoyen Marcel, he is the worst of the lot--a cursed aristo to his finger-tips.”
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