He had
made no move. Being a member of the Legislature, he naturally shirked
responsibility, and he had come to see the young Seigneur, who was
justice of the peace, and practically mayor of the county. They found the
Cure, the avocat, and Medallion, talking together amiably.
The three were greatly distressed by the representations of the member
and De la Riviere. The Cure turned to Monsieur Garon, the avocat,
inquiringly.
"The law--the law of the case is clear," said the avocat helplessly. "If
the peace is disturbed, if there is conspiracy to injure a country not at
war with our own, if arms are borne with menace, if His Excellency--"
"His Excellency--my faith!--You're an ass, Garon!" cried the young
Seigneur, with an angry sneer.
For once in his life the avocat bridled up. He got to his feet, and stood
silent an instant, raising himself up and down on his tiptoes, his lips
compressed, his small body suddenly contracting to a firmness, and grown
to a height, his eyelids working quickly. To the end of his life the Cure
remembered and talked of the moment when the avocat gave battle. To him
it was superb--he never could have done it himself.
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