ly,
did as he was told. Then Mauprat suddenly pushed the door to and
squeezed his neck so violently between it and the wall that the wretched
man could not breathe. Deeming him sufficiently punished, Tristan opened
the door again, and, asking pardon for his carelessness, with great
civility offered the man his arm to take him back to dinner. This the
notary did not consider it wise to refuse; but as soon as he re-entered
the room where his colleagues were, he threw himself into a chair, and
pointing to his livid face and mangled neck, demanded justice for the
trap into which he had just been led. It was then that my grandfather,
revelling in his rascally wit, went through a comedy scene of sublime
audacity. He gravely reproached the notary with accusing him unjustly,
and always addressing him kindly and with studied politeness, called the
others to bear witness to his conduct, begging them to make allowances
if his precarious position had forced him to give them such a poor
reception, all the while doing the honours of the table in splendid
style. The poor notary did not dare to press the matter and was
compelled to dine, although half dead. His companions were so completely
duped by Mauprat's assurance that they ate and drank merrily, treating
the notary as a lunatic and a boor. They left Roche-Mauprat all drunk,
singing the praises of their host, and laughing at the notary, who fell
down dead upon the threshold of his house on dismounting from his horse.

The eight sons, the pride and strength of old Mauprat, all resembled
him in physical vigour, brutality of manners, and, to some extent, in
craftiness and jesting ill-nature. The truth is they were veritable
brutes, capable of any evil, and completely dead to any noble thought
or generous sentiment. Nevertheless, they were endowed with a sort of
reckless, dashing courage which now and then seemed to have in it an
element of grandeur. But it is time that I told you about myself, and
gave you some idea of the development of my character in the thick of
this filthy mire into which it had pleased God to plunge me, on leaving
my cradle.

I should be wrong if, in order to gain your sympathy in these early
years of my life, I asserted that I was born with a noble nature, a pure
and incorruptible soul. As to this, I know nothing. Maybe there are no
incorruptible souls. Maybe there are. That is what neither you nor any
one will ever know. The great questions awaiting an answe