"You don't see the whole thing yet," said an old landowner who knew
the region well. "There is something serious behind all this which I
can't yet make out. The Abbe Troubert is too deep to be fathomed at
once. Our dear Birotteau is at the beginning of his troubles. Besides,
would he be left in peace and comfort even if he did give up his
lodging to Troubert? I doubt it. If Caron came here to tell you that
you intended to leave Mademoiselle Gamard," he added, turning to the
bewildered priest, "no doubt Mademoiselle Gamard's intention is to
turn you out. Therefore you will have to go, whether you like it or
not. Her sort of people play a sure game, they risk nothing."

This old gentleman, Monsieur de Bourbonne, could sum up and estimate
provincial ideas as correctly as Voltaire summarized the spirit of his
times. He was thin and tall, and chose to exhibit in the matter of
clothes the quiet indifference of a landowner whose territorial value
is quoted in the department. His face, tanned by the Touraine sun, was
less intellectual than shrewd. Accustomed to weigh his words and
measure his actions, he concealed a profound vigilance behind a
misleading appearance of simplicity. A very slight observation of him
sufficed to show that, like a Norman peasant, he invariably held the
upper hand in business matters. He was an authority on wine-making,
the leading science of Touraine. He had managed to extend the meadow
lands of his domain by taking in a part of the alluvial soil of the
Loire without getting into difficulties with the State. This clever
proceeding gave him the reputation of a man of talent. If Monsieur de
Bourbonne's conversation pleased you and you were to ask who he was of
a Tourainean, "Ho! a sly old fox!" would be the answer of those who
were envious of him--and they were many. In Touraine, as in many of
the provinces, jealousy is the root of language.