“But I came for another purpose. The agent whom I expected has come, and
he wishes to see you. He will write to you to make an appointment, and I
hope you will consent.”
“Certainly, with all my heart,” replied the clerk. “And God grant that
he may succeed in extricating M. de Boiscoran from his difficulties,
even if it were only to take the conceit out of my master.”
“Ah! is M. Galpin so triumphant?”
“Without the slightest reserve. He sees his old friend already at the
galleys. He has received another letter of congratulation from the
attorney general, and came here yesterday, when the court had
adjourned, to read it to any one who would listen. Everybody, of course,
complimented him, except the president, who turned his back upon him,
and the commonwealth attorney, who told him in Latin that he was selling
the bear’s skin before he had killed him.”
In the meantime steps were heard coming down the passages; and M. Folgat
said hurriedly,--
“One more suggestion. Goudar desires to remain unknown. Do not speak of
him to any living soul, and especially show no surprise at the costume
in which you see him.”
The noise of a door which was opened interrupted him. One of the judges
entered, who, after having bowed very civilly, asked the clerk a number
of questions about a case which was to come on the same day.
“Good-bye, M. Mechinet,” said the young advocate.
And his next visit was to Dr. Seignebos. When he rang the bell, a
servant came to the door, and said,--
“The doctor is gone out; but he will be back directly, and has told me
to beg you to wait for him in his study.”
Such an evidence of perfect trust was unheard of. No one was ever
allowed to remain alone in his sanctuary. It was an immense room, quite
full of most varied objects, which at a glance revealed the opinions,
tastes, and predilections of the owner. The first thing to strike the
visitor as he entered was an admirable bust of Bichat, flanked on either
side by smaller busts of Robespierre and Rousseau. A clock of the time
of Louis XIV. stood between the windows, and marked the seconds with a
noise which sounded like the rattling of old iron. One whole side was
filled with books of all kinds, unbound or bound, in a way which would
have set M. Daubigeon laughing very heartily. A huge cupboard adapted
for collections of plants bespoke a passing fancy for botany; while an
electric machine recalled the time when the doctor believed in cures by
electricity.
On the table in the centre of the room vast piles of books betrayed the
doctor’s recent studies. All the authors who have spoken of insanity
or idiocy were there, from Apostolides to Tardien. M. Folgat was still
looking around when Dr. Seignebos entered, always like a bombshell, but
far more cheerful than usual.
“I knew I should find you here!” he cried still in the door. “You come
to ask me to meet Goudar.”