"Rafael Sabatini. Scaramouche" - читать интересную книгу автора

"That is the point of view to be expected in one who is the assistant
fiscal intendant of a nobleman, and the delegate of a nobleman to the States
of Brittany."
"Philippe, is that just? You are angry with me!" he cried, in real
solicitude.
"I am hurt," Vilmorin admitted. "I am deeply hurt by your attitude. And
I am not alone in resenting your reactionary tendencies. Do you know that
the Literary Chamber is seriously considering your expulsion?"
Andre-Louis shrugged. "That neither surprises nor troubles me."
M. de Vilmorin swept on, passionately: "Sometimes I think that you have
no heart. With you it is always the law, never equity. It occurs to me,
Andre, that I was mistaken in coming to you. You are not likely to be of
assistance to me in my interview with M. de Kercadiou." He took up his hat,
clearly with the intention of departing.
Andre-Louis sprang up and caught him by the arm.
"I vow," said he, "that this is the last time ever I shall consent to
talk law or politics with you, Philippe. I love you too well to quarrel with
you over other men's affairs."
"But I make them my own," Philippe insisted vehemently.
"Of course you do, and I love you for it. It is right that you should.
You are to be a priest; and everybody's business is a priest's business.
Whereas I am a lawyer - the fiscal intendant of a nobleman, as you say - and
a lawyer's business is the business of his client. That is the difference
between us. Nevertheless, you are not going to shake me off."
"But I tell you frankly, now that I come to think of it, that I should
prefer you did not see M. de Kercadiou with me. Your duty to your client
cannot be a help to me."
His wrath had passed; but his determination remained firm, based upon
the reason he gave.
"Very well," said Andre-Louis. "It shall be as you please. But nothing
shall prevent me at least from walking with you as far as the chateau, and
waiting for you while you make your appeal to M. de Kercadiou."
And so they left the house good friends, for the sweetness of M. de
Vilmorin's nature did not admit of rancour, and together they took their way
up the steep main street of Gavrillac.

CHAPTER II. THE ARISTOCRATI


The sleepy village of Gavrillac, a half-league removed from the main
road to Rennes, and therefore undisturbed by the world's traffic, lay in a
curve of the River Meu, at the foot, and straggling halfway up the slope, of
the shallow hill that was crowned by the squat manor. By the time Gavrillac
had paid tribute to its seigneur - partly in money and partly in service -
tithes to the Church, and imposts to the King, it was hard put to it to keep
body and soul together with what remained. Yet, hard as conditions were in
Gavrillac, they were not so hard as in many other parts of France, not half
so hard, for instance, as with the wretched feudatories of the great Lord of
La Tour d'Azyr, whose vast possessions were at one point separated from this
little village by the waters of the Meu.