"You saw what, M'sieu' la Fillette? Out with it, and don't use such big
adjectives. I'm only a carpenter. 'Absolute, uncompromising, deadly,
complete'--that's a mouthful of grammar, my lords! Come, my sprig of
jurisprudence, tell us what you saw." There was an apparent nervousness
in Masson's manner now. Indeed he showed more agitation than when, a few
hours before, Jean Jacques had stood with his hand on the lever of the
gates of the flume, and the life of the master-carpenter at his feet, to
be kicked into eternity.
"Four days ago at five o'clock in the afternoon"--in a voice formal and
exact, the little Clerk of the Court seemed to be reading from a paper,
since he kept his eyes fixed on the blotter before him, as he did in
Court--"I was coming down the hill behind the Manor Cartier, when my
attention--by accident--was drawn to a scene below me in the Manor. I
stopped short, of course, and--"
"Diable! You stopped short 'of course' before what you saw! Spit it
out--what did you see?" George Masson had had a trying day, and there was
danger of losing control of himself. There was a whiteness growing round
the eyes, and eating up the warmth of the cheek; his admirably smooth
brow was contracted into heavy wrinkles, and a foot shifted uneasily on
the floor with a scraping sole. This drew the attention of M. Fille, who
raised his head reprovingly--he could not get rid of the feeling that he
was in court, and that a case was being tried; and the severity of a
Judge is naught compared with the severity of a Clerk of the Court,
particularly if he is small and unmarried, and has no one to beat him
into manageable humanity.
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