We shall presently see that in making love to Rigou's servant-girl, Jean-Louis deserved his reputation for shrewdness.
"Well, what have you to say, prophet ?" said the innkeeper to his son.
"I say that you are playing into the hands of the rich folk," replied Jean-Louis.

"Frighten the Aigues people to maintain your rights if you choose; but if you drive them out of the place and make them sell the estate, you are doing just what the bourgeois of the valley want, and it's against your own interest.

If you help the bourgeois to divide the great estates among them, where's the national domain to be bought for nothing at the next Revolution?
Wait till then, and you'll get your land without paying for it, as Rigou got his; whereas if you go and thrust this estate into the jaws of the rich folk of the valley, the rich folk will dribble it back to you impoverished and at twice the price they paid for it.

You are working for their interests, I tell you; so does everybody who works for Rigou,--look at Courtecuisse." The policy contained in this allocution was too deep for the drunken heads of those present, who were all, except Courtecuisse, laying by their money to buy a slice of the Aigues cake.

So they let Jean-Louis harangue, and continued, as in the Chamber of Deputies, their private confabs with one another.
"Yes, that's so; you'll be Rigou's cats-paw!" cried Fourchon, who alone understood his grandson.
Just then Langlume, the miller of Les Aigues, passed the tavern.