"Rafael Sabatini. Scaramouche" - читать интересную книгу автора

social life. But the fame he had acquired there was hardly enviable. He was
too impish, too caustic, too much disposed - so thought his colleagues - to
ridicule their sublime theories for the regeneration of mankind. himself he
protested that he merely held them up to the mirror of truth, and that it
was not his fault if when reflected there they looked ridiculous.
All that he achieved by this was to exasperate; and his expulsion from
a society grown mistrustful of him must already have followed but for his
friend, Philippe de Vilmorin, a divinity student of Rennes, who, himself,
was one of the most popular members of the Literary Chamber.
Coming to Gavrillac on a November morning, laden with news of the
political storms which were then gathering over France, Philippe found in
that sleepy Breton village matter to quicken his already lively indignation.
A peasant of Gavrillac, named Mabey, had been shot dead that morning in the
woods of Meupont, across the river, by a gamekeeper of the Marquis de La
Tour d'Azyr. The unfortunate fellow had been caught in the act of taking a
pheasant from a snare, and the gamekeeper had acted under explicit orders
from his master.
Infuriated by an act of tyranny so absolute and merciless, M. de
Vilmorin proposed to lay the matter before M. de Kercadiou. Mabey was a
vassal of Gavrillac, and Vilmorin hoped to move the Lord of Gavrillac to
demand at least some measure of reparation for the widow and the three
orphans which that brutal deed had made.
But because Andre-Louis was Philippe's dearest friend - indeed, his
almost brother - the young seminarist sought him out in the first instance.
He found him at breakfast alone in the long, low-ceilinged, white-panelled
dining-room at Rabouillet's - the only home that Andre-Louis had ever known
- and after embracing him, deafened him with his denunciation of M. de La
Tour d'Azyr.
"I have heard of it already," said Andre-Louis.
"You speak as if the thing had not surprised you," his friend
reproached him.
"Nothing beastly can surprise me when done by a beast. And La Tour
d'Azyr is a beast, as all the world knows. The more fool Mabey for stealing
his pheasants. He should have stolen somebody else's."
"Is that all you have to say about it?"
"What more is there to say? I've a practical mind, I hope."
"What more there is to say I propose to say to your godfather, M. de
Kercadiou. I shall appeal to him for justice."
"Against M. de La Tour d'azyr?" Andre-Louis raised his eyebrows.
"Why not?"
"My dear ingenuous Philippe, dog doesn't eat dog."
"You are unjust to your godfather. He is a humane man."
"Oh, as humane as you please. But this isn't a question of humanity.
It's a question of game-laws."
M. de Vilmorin tossed his long arms to Heaven in disgust. He was a
tall, slender young gentleman, a year or two younger than Andre-Louis. He
was very soberly dressed in black, as became a seminarist, with white bands
at wrists and throat and silver buckles to his shoes. His neatly clubbed
brown hair was innocent of powder.
"You talk like a lawyer," he exploded.