"Have you no body the like of the English Parliament that could put matters to rights without disrupting the country by a great rebellion?"
"We have no Parliament in your sense, to which the people elect their own representatives. There are the local Parliaments, which we term Estates. Each of these consists of three chambers, the Church, the Nobility and a third Estate composed of the representatives of the city corporations and the trade guilds; but they have never been aught but provincial municipalities. Time was, though, when they used to send their representatives to Paris to sit in the States-General and advise the Kings of France whenever there arose a major crisis in the affairs of the nation. But the States-General has not now been summoned for nearly a hundred and seventy years. The last time they met was in 1614; and since then the Monarchy has become so-all-powerful that it ignores them. As for the provincial Estates, from one cause and another most of them have ceased to function these many decades past, and only those of Artois, Flanders, Burgundy, Brittany and Languedoc continue to assemble regularly."
"How is the kingdom governed, then?" asked Roger, "for if the nobles play no part and these Estates you speak of are moribund, how can the King, hedged about as he is by a crowd of ill-informed wasters, know what is happening to his subjects?"
"Alas! he does not; though 'tis said that he is good-intentioned. By theory he rules through the governors of his provinces, but these are all great nobles who live in luxury at his Court on the huge incomes that their governorships bring them. In fact, the land is ruled by the Intendants appointed by the Comptroller-General of Finance, most of whom are clever upstarts with but one concern—to line their own pockets at the expense of both the King and the people."
"But can the gentry do nothing to better matters?" asked Roger. "In England all people who have estates, whether large or small, feel it incumbent on them to protect and succour their dependants. A landlord who allowed his tenants' cottages to fall into disrepair or left his village folk starving in a bad winter would at once be cold-shouldered by his neighbours."
"Ah, and 'twas so here in the good old days. But the gentry are now almost as helpless as the peasants. All the wealth of the land is drawn either to Versailles in taxes or into the pockets of the lawyers and rich merchants in the cities. The upper tenth of the nobility, that which lives at Court near the King and grabs up the rich plums that fall from his table, does monstrous well; the other nine-tenths lives on its estates, mostly small properties that bring in barely enough to keep a roof on the Chateaux of their owners. They are mostly proud, aloof, hidebound in their ideas and jealous of their privileges; and they have lost both the inclination and the means to help their unfortunate peasantry."
" Tis a parlous state the country has come to, in very truth; and what you tell me interests me mightily. Yet it affects not the fact that I find it ever increasingly repugnant to take their savings off these wretched villagers."
"If 'tis that which worries you," the Doctor said, after a moment, "we will proceed yet further south into Brittany. The ancient kingdom is one of the few provinces in France where the Estates still function to some purpose. Moreover, the nobility there have never brought themselves to feel any strong allegiance to the Crown, and both rich and poor among them rarely leave their properties. I do not say that you will find the Breton peasants wealthy, out at least you will find them more prosperous and better cared for than those in the villages you have so far visited with me."
So it came about that, having replenished their stock of unguents, balms and 'sovereign remedies" in Caen next day, they followed the road south-west through Vire and Avranches towards Brittany. It was the 20th of September before they paid toll to enter the province and, since leaving Caen, in spite of their outlay there, the funds of the partnership had mounted to forty louis, partly as a result of several profitable private consultations that the Doctor had given to patients coming to him after dark.
Roger now no longer participated in these harrowing and gruesome interviews. Apart from the disgust they caused him he had reached the conclusion that there was little point in his doing so, since he knew how many private visitors the Doctor received each evening and approximately what he was likely to make out of them. Moreover, he now felt convinced that the only time his partner was at all likely to attempt to cheat him was when they were in a town and the craving for brandy overcame the old man's better nature.
From the frontier of the province they struck south towards Rennes, intending to make a wide circuit of its interior after they had once more replenished their store, of drugs in its capital.
As the Doctor had foretold, Roger found the Breton peasantry much more alive and human than their neighbours to the north. They showed more independence and even, at times, heckled the great Aristotle Fenelon, questioning his encyclopaedic knowledge and his much-vaunted wisdom. At times, too, the Curés of the villages came out and drove the human benefactor away, upbraiding him as a godless charlatan. But, in spite of this, the Bretons proved a credulous folk and their women bought much more freely of the Doctor's toilet preparations; so, when they reached Rennes on 5th of October, Roger had fifty-four louis, tucked, literally, under his belt, as he now kept their funds, as he once had Georgina's jewels, in an elongated pouch round his waist.
On arriving in Rennes they went to the Du Guesclin, a good inn, overlooking the Champs de Mars, as they intended to do themselves well. Having reached the town by mid-morning they were in time to enjoy an excellent dejeuner, but it struck Roger that during it his companion was unusually silent.
After the meal, as had become their custom on reaching any town of importance, they went out for a walk in order that the Doctor might show Roger such items of historic interest as the place contained. As they proceeded towards the Cathedral of St. Pierre the old man's quite abnormal un communicativeness continued, so Roger asked him if he was not feeling well.
"I'm well enough in myself, but a trifle worried," the Doctor replied.
"About what?" Roger inquired.
"I trust 'twill prove a matter of no moment; but did you, perchance, notice the man in the grey coat who was sitting alone at a small table in the coffee room, at its far end on the left side of the hearth—a tall, thin, angular fellow with red hair and a somewhat sour expression?"
"Yes," said Roger. "I glanced at him more than once because I was struck by the exceptional pallor of his face. I thought him not unhandsome, but there was something vaguely repellent about that small mouth of his, and his heavily lidded eyes that avoided my glance each time I looked at him. Who is he?"
"His name is Joseph Fouché. He is a lay preacher of the Oratorian Order and a native of Nantes. His father was, I believe, a sea-captain and left him both some small properties in Brittany and a plantation in San Domingo, so he is of independent means. However, as a hobby he interests himself in police affairs, playing the role of a private investigator for his own amusement, then acting as an informer. 'Twas in such a matter that I met him."
"What part did you play in this?" asked Roger with some apprehension.
"I was in Nantes towards the end of last winter and, er—my funds were unusually low. 'Twas on that account that, against my better judgment, I agreed to treat a somewhat stubborn case. 'Twas through no lack of care on my part that I lost my patient. Even then no harm would have resulted to myself had not a wealthy family been involved and Monsieur Fouché as a friend of theirs, taken it upon himself to investigate the matter. He traced the cause of death to me, then browbeat me into certain admissions, and on his information the police issued a warrant for my arrest."