“At least not at home. I am disposed to think the odor is unpleasant to
my wife.”
Positively, if M. Folgat had not known the man, he would have taken him
for some good and simple retired grocer, inoffensive, and any thing but
bright, and, bowing to him politely, he would have taken his leave.
But he had seen him at work; and so he followed him obediently to his
greenhouse, his melon-house, and his marvellous asparagus-beds.
At last Goudar took his guest to the end of the garden, to a bower in
which were some chairs and a table, saying,--
“Now let us sit down, and tell me your business; for I know you did not
come solely for the pleasure of seeing my domain.”
Goudar was one of those men who have heard in their lives more
confessions than ten priests, ten lawyers, and ten doctors all
together. You could tell him every thing. Without a moment’s hesitation,
therefore, and without a break, M. Folgat told him the whole story of
Jacques and the Countess Claudieuse. He listened, without saying a word,
without moving a muscle in his face. When the lawyer had finished, he
simply said,--
“Well?”
“First of all,” replied M. Folgat, “I should like to hear your opinion.
Do you believe the statement made by M. de Boiscoran?”
“Why not? I have seen much stranger cases than that.”
“Then you think, that, in spite of the charges brought against him, we
must believe in his innocence?”
“Pardon me, I think nothing at all. Why, you must study a matter before
you can have an opinion.”