"
As a matter of fact, the insurgents treated the gentlemen with the
greatest kindness. They even provided them with an excellent dinner in
the evening. Such attentions, however, were terrifying to such a quaker
as the receiver of taxes; the insurgents he thought would not treat them
so well unless they wished to make them fat and tender for the day when
they might wish to devour them.
At dusk that day Silvere came face to face with his cousin, Doctor
Pascal. The latter had followed the band on foot, chatting with the
workmen who held him in the greatest respect. At first he had striven
to dissuade them from the struggle; and then, as if convinced by their
arguments, he had said to them with his kindly smile: "Well, perhaps you
are right, my friends; fight if you like, I shall be here to patch up
your arms and legs."
Then, in the morning he began to gather pebbles and plants along the
high road. He regretted that he had not brought his geologist's hammer
and botanical wallet with him. His pockets were now so full of stones
that they were almost bursting, while bundles of long herbs peered forth
from the surgeon's case which he carried under his arm.
"Hallo! You here, my lad?" he cried, as he perceived Silvere. "I thought
I was the only member of the family here."
He spoke these last words with a touch of irony, as if deriding the
intrigues of his father and his uncle Antoine. Silvere was very glad
to meet his cousin; the doctor was the only one of the Rougons who
ever shook hands with him in the street, and showed him any sincere
friendship.
Pages:
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336