However serious this invisible but real disorder might already be, it could still be cured by a happy issue. But a fresh obstacle, an unexpected incident, would be enough to wreck this vigorous constitution, to break the weakened springs, and produce the hesitancy, the aimless, unfinished movements, which physiologists know well in men undermined by grief.
Derville, detecting in his client the symptoms of extreme dejection, said to him:
"Take courage; the end of the business cannot fail to be in your favor. Only, consider whether you can give me your whole confidence and blindly accept the result I may think best for your interests."
"Do what you will," said Chabert.
"Yes, but you surrender yourself to me like a man marching to his death."
"Must I not be left to live without a position, without a name? Is that endurable?"
"That is not my view of it," said the lawyer. "We will try a friendly suit, to annul both your death certificate and your marriage, so as to put you in possession of your rights. You may even, by Comte Ferraud's intervention, have your name replaced on the army list as general, and no doubt you will get a pension."
"Well, proceed then," said Chabert. "I put myself entirely in your hands."
"I will send you a power of attorney to sign," said Derville. "Good-bye. Keep up your courage. If you want money, rely on me."
Chabert warmly wrung the lawyer's hand, and remained standing with his back against the wall, not having the energy to follow him excepting with his eyes. Like all men who know but little of legal matters, he was frightened by this unforeseen struggle.
During their interview, several times, the figure of a man posted in the street had come forward from behind one of the gate-pillars, watching for Derville to depart, and he now accosted the lawyer. He was an old man, wearing a blue waistcoat and a white-pleated kilt, like a brewer's; on his head was an otter-skin cap. His face was tanned, hollow-cheeked, and wrinkled, but ruddy on the cheek-bones by hard work and exposure to the open air.
"Asking your pardon, sir," said he, taking Derville by the arm, "if I take the liberty of speaking to you. But I fancied, from the look of you, that you were a friend of our General's."
"And what then?" replied Derville. "What concern have you with him?--But who are you?" said the cautious lawyer.
"I am Louis Vergniaud," he replied at once. "I have a few words to say to you."
"So you are the man who has lodged Comte Chabert as I have found him?"
"Asking your pardon, sir, he has the best room. I would have given him mine if I had had but one; I could have slept in the stable. A man who has suffered as he has, who teaches my kids to read, a general, an Egyptian, the first lieutenant I ever served under--What do you think?
--Of us all, he is best served. I shared what I had with him.
Unfortunately, it is not much to boast of--bread, milk, eggs. Well, well; it's neighbors' fare, sir. And he is heartily welcome.--But he has hurt our feelings."
"He?"
"Yes, sir, hurt our feelings. To be plain with you, I have taken a larger business than I can manage, and he saw it. Well, it worried him; he must needs mind the horse! I says to him, 'Really, General----' 'Bah!' says he, 'I am not going to eat my head off doing nothing. I learned to rub a horse down many a year ago.'--I had some bills out for the purchase money of my dairy--a fellow named Grados--Do you know him, sir?"
"But, my good man, I have not time to listen to your story. Only tell me how the Colonel offended you."
"He hurt our feelings, sir, as sure as my name is Louis Vergniaud, and my wife cried about it. He heard from our neighbors that we had not a sou to begin to meet the bills with. The old soldier, as he is, he saved up all you gave him, he watched for the bill to come in, and he paid it. Such a trick! While my wife and me, we knew he had no tobacco, poor old boy, and went without.--Oh! now--yes, he has his cigar every morning! I would sell my soul for it--No, we are hurt.
Well, so I wanted to ask you--for he said you were a good sort--to lend us a hundred crowns on the stock, so that we may get him some clothes, and furnish his room. He thought he was getting us out of debt, you see? Well, it's just the other way; the old man is running us into debt--and hurt our feelings!--He ought not to have stolen a march on us like that. And we his friends, too!--On my word as an honest man, as sure as my name is Louis Vergniaud, I would sooner sell up and enlist than fail to pay you back your money----"
Derville looked at the dairyman, and stepped back a few paces to glance at the house, the yard, the manure-pool, the cowhouse, the rabbits, the children.
"On my honor, I believe it is characteristic of virtue to have nothing to do with riches!" thought he.
"All right, you shall have your hundred crowns, and more. But I shall not give them to you; the Colonel will be rich enough to help, and I will not deprive him of the pleasure."
"And will that be soon?"
"Why, yes."
"Ah, dear God! how glad my wife will be!" and the cowkeeper's tanned face seemed to expand.
"Now," said Derville to himself, as he got into his cab again, "let us call on our opponent. We must not show our hand, but try to see hers, and win the game at one stroke. She must be frightened. She is a woman. Now, what frightens women most? A woman is afraid of nothing but . . ."
And he set to work to study the Countess' position, falling into one of those brown studies to which great politicians give themselves up when concocting their own plans and trying to guess the secrets of a hostile Cabinet. Are not attorneys, in a way, statesmen in charge of private affairs?
But a brief survey of the situation in which the Comte Ferraud and his wife now found themselves is necessary for a comprehension of the lawyer's cleverness.
