three acres of land sold to him by Rigou, together with the garden
adjoining the house, which was beginning to be productive; and he was
in danger of being turned out of it all. Clothed in rags like
Fourchon, poor Courtecuisse, who lately wore the boots and gaiters of
a huntsman, now thrust his feet into sabots and accused "the rich" of
Les Aigues of having caused his destitution. These wearing anxieties
had given to the fat little man and his once smiling and rosy face a
gloomy and dazed expression, as though he were ill from the effects of
poison or with some chronic malady.

"What's the matter with you, Monsieur Courtecuisse; is your tongue
tied?" asked Tonsard, as the man continued silent after he had told
him about the battle which had just taken place.

"No, no!" cried Madame Tonsard; "he needn't complain of the midwife
who cut his string,--she made a good job of it."

"It is enough to make a man dumb, thinking from morning till night of
some way to escape Rigou," said the premature old man, gloomily.

"Bah!" said old Mother Tonsard, "you've got a pretty daughter,
seventeen years old. If she's a good girl you can easily manage
matters with that old jail bird--"

"We sent her to Auxerre two years ago to Madame Mariotte the elder, to
keep her out of harm's way; I'd rather die than--"

"What a fool you are!" said Tonsard, "look at my girls,--are they any
the worse? He who dares to say they are not as virtuous as marble
images will have to do with my gun."