Antoine did his best to annoy his father by pretending that he knew all about the contents of the letter but was afraid to say anything. Clotilde came to his support, announcing in a tone of starry-eyed innocence:
“I was holding Mummy’s skirt and I heard Zephe say to her, ‘The Prussian and your mother-in-law’. . But that’s all I remember.”
Honore had forgotten for the moment the path the letter must have travelled before coming to rest under the clock. Clotilde’s testimony seemed to him convincing, and he glared savagely at his brother, suspecting him of having let slip some of the truth in the course of his visits to Zephe’s house.
“I can see we mustn’t waste another day without getting that letter back,” he said.
It was now a simple matter for Adelaide to add:
“The cure was on the Malorets’ side, naturally, and so were all the other Clericals. You should have heard the noise the Durs and the Coutants and the Bonbols made when he said it was all the more shame on us, meaning about the Prussian. That’s exactly what he said — isn’t it, Juliette?”
Ferdinand no longer sought to dispute the facts. He murmured anxiously in Honore’s ear:
“Most unfortunate. . But after all, it was nothing but a slight argument in which you were not involved. The whole thing will be forgotten by to-morrow.”
Honore, however, gave no sign of anger. He was laughing at Adelaide’s story, and the episode of the kick on the behind gave him especial pleasure.
Shortly before they sat down to table Ferdinand cornered Antoine in the passage, and filled with resentment towards this son who had failed to support him in the argument, demanded in a low, fierce voice:
“The date of the first Assembly of the States-General?” Antoine stared at the floor. He had no intention of answering, and his father counted upon his obstinacy as an excuse for giving him a heavy imposition.
“It’s a date which no one has the right to forget. Yes or no, can vou tell me-”
Antoine’s stubborn face suddenly cleared.
“Uncle Honore! Uncle Honore! Father wants to know the date of the first Assembly of the States-General.” Uncle Honore at once guessed the state of affairs. He said solemnly:
“It must have been in eighty-three, the year two of Corenpot’s cows died.”
Ferdinand turned on his heels and began to walk wildly round the house. He totalled up the sum of his grievances against his brother and his interests in Claquebue. The account was already ordered in his mind. He had only to run over it, draw a line and close it. “I’ve had enough!” he muttered several times. The time had come for him to choose between his brother and Zephe Maloret, and he had decided for Zephe. His interests lay on the side that was linked with Valtier. He resolved that upon the next difference that arose between his brother and himself he would spepk the decisive words. Honore should leave the house and if possible the district, with sufficient monetary compensation to enable him to start again elsewhere. The sooner it happened, the better.
During the meal Ferdinand brooded over this decision, growing increasingly eager to put it into effect. He did his utmost to start an argument with Honore, who, however, answered him with an unshakeable placidity.
“What we want is a real man at the head of the Government,” said Ferdinand.
“Why not?” said Honore.
“A man with a bit of gumption, who’ll make France respected,” said Ferdinand.
“You’re not drinking anything.”
“I say it has got to be General Boulanger. You’ve no reason to say he’s a Clerical, none whatever! But even supposing he is a Clerical! I repeat-supposing he is}”
“Well, if he is, he is.”
“I believe in saying what I think. I don’t hide my opinions.”
“Fancy!”
“The trouble with you is, one never knows where you stand in matters of policy.”
“Well, that’s true,” said Honore. “I shall have to ask Clotilde what she thinks of General Boulanger. . Have a little more of this stew — go on, just a little! — and a glassful of wine to wash it down into the empty corner. . Tripe for the tripes! There’s nothing better against acidity.”
A warmth of discreet happiness had spread round the table. A silent laugh accompanied the plate of stew under Ferdinand’s nose, upsetting to his bellicose mood. When Deodat entered the yard Juliette and Honore rose together to greet him. One took his wallet and the other his cap. Honore turned laughing to his family and said softly:
“Here he is! It’s the postman!”
Deodat sat down opposite three glasses of wine which Adelaide had filled until they flowed over a little, just to show that she didn’t care when it was a matter of quenching the thirst of a good postman. He pulled out his handkerchief and said as he mopped his forehead:
“It’s hot!”
“He says it's hot,” explained Honore to the others.
“You must be tired,” said Adelaide. “It's so dry as well.” Deodat suddenly broke into laughter, with his head flung back, and he said to Adelaide:
“A fine thing happened to me just now!”
“No!”
“I w as coming back from Valbuisson, just going steadily along, the way — well, the wav one does. . And that reminds me, Ernest said to me the other day — your Ernest, that is — he said that I walked like a dismounted gendarme.”
“Ele must have been joking,” said Honore. “A dismounted gendarme indeed!”
“You think that too, do you? It’s what I thought when I came to think it over — just joking, I thought. . Well, so I was coming back from Valbuisson, not thinking of anything special and not worrying anv more than if I was sitting down with a litre in front of me, and then all of a sudden — it would have been just by the crossroads-well, say two hundred yards before you come to them, or perhaps a little less — well, all of a sudden I began to think that I wasn’t walking quite right. It was just a sort of idea, you know, the way one sometimes gets ideas. Well, so I went on walking for another minute or two, more for the sake of going on walking than for the sake of getting anywhere. And then I thought to myself, ‘Well, that’s queer!’ I thought, and so I thought that perhaps after all I’d better have a look at my right boot. And do you know' what? All the front part of the sole and the metal toe-cap had come off, and there was nothing but two rows of nails in the middle which made me rock a bit every time I put my foot down, and that’s why I wasn’t walking right!. . But you haven’t heard the best of it vet! The best is that there wasn’t so much as a single nail missing from my left boot! So now what do you think of that!”
Honore looked at Deodat and saw his glowing face, his good, round face, the face of a man at peace who does not look past the end of his nose, but who sees his nose all right, and sees it plain: the face of a good postman who follows his nose and finishes his round and makes no mistake about it.
“Dcodat I owe you a word of thanks, seeing that I haven’t seen you since then.”
“Thanks for what, Honore?”
“For Juliette and for me, too. It takes something like what happened the day before yesterday to make you know that you value your daughter’s virginity. You don’t think of it otherwise.”
"I just happened to be passing,” said Dcodat, “and so I just happened to be passing, that’s all.”
After he had taken his leave there was a moment of affectionate silence in the dining-room. Ferdinand said in irritation to Honore:
“The old fool babbles more and more, and what’s worse, he loses letters. It’s high time he retired.”
“Have you found someone to take his place?”
“There are plenty who’d do the job better than he does.” “Well, if you’re in a hurry to recommend them to the Deputy, I might put in a word with the Malorets. I’m going to call on them this afternoon. Zephe still has a letter of mine which he has forgotten to give me.”