The post master had
forgotten about his son in his hurry to reach the square; for if the
doctor were really in the church hearing mass it was a question of
losing two hundred and fifty thousand francs. It must be admitted that
the fears of these relations came from the strongest and most
legitimate of social feelings, family interests.
"Well, Monsieur Minoret," said the mayor (formerly a miller who had
now become royalist, named Levrault-Cremiere), "when the devil gets
old the devil a monk would be. Your uncle, they say, is one of us."
"Better late than never, cousin," responded the post master, trying to
conceal his annoyance.
"How that fellow will grin if we are defrauded! He is capable of
marrying his son to that damned girl--may the devil get her!" cried
Cremiere, shaking his fists at the mayor as he entered the porch.
"What's Cremiere grumbling about?" said the butcher of the town, a
Levrault-Levrault the elder. "Isn't he pleased to see his uncle on the
road to paradise?"
"Who would ever have believed it!" ejaculated Massin.
"Ha! one should never say, 'Fountain, I'll not drink of your water,'"
remarked the notary, who, seeing the group from afar, had left his
wife to go to church without him.
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