So he explained to them that their presence might tend to
irritate the working-men and thus aggravate the situation. The sergeant
in command thereupon complimented him on his prudence. When Rougon was
informed that there was a wounded man in the barracks, he asked to see
him, by way of rendering himself popular. He found Rengade in bed, with
his eye bandaged, and his big moustaches just peeping out from under the
linen. With some high-sounding words about duty, Rougon endeavoured to
comfort the unfortunate fellow who, having lost an eye, was swearing
with exasperation at the thought that his injury would compel him to
quit the service. At last Rougon promised to send the doctor to him.
"I'm much obliged to you, sir," Rengade replied; "but, you know, what
would do me more good than any quantity of doctor's stuff would be to
wring the neck of the villain who put my eye out. Oh! I shall know him
again; he's a little thin, palish fellow, quite young."
Thereupon Pierre bethought himself of the blood he had seen on Silvere's
hand. He stepped back a little, as though he was afraid that Rengade
would fly at his throat, and cry: "It was your nephew who blinded me;
and you will have to pay for it." And whilst he was mentally cursing his
disreputable family, he solemnly declared that if the guilty person were
found he should be punished with all the rigour of the law.
"No, no, it isn't worth all that trouble," the one-eyed man replied;
"I'll just wring his neck for him when I catch him.
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