park is d'Etiolles, and in the distance beyond is Corbeil; that vast
building, whose roofs are higher than the oaks, is the Darblay mill.

The mayor of Orcival occupies a handsome, pleasant mansion, at the
upper end of the village. Formerly a manufacturer of dry goods, M.
Courtois entered business without a penny, and after thirty years
of absorbing toil, he retired with four round millions of francs.

Then he proposed to live tranquilly with his wife and children,
passing the winter at Paris and the summer at his country-house.

But all of a sudden he was observed to be disturbed and agitated.
Ambition stirred his heart. He took vigorous measures to be
forced to accept the mayoralty of Orcival. And he accepted it,
quite in self-defence, as he will himself tell you. This office
was at once his happiness and his despair; apparent despair,
interior and real happiness.

It quite befits him, with clouded brow, to rail at the cares of
power; he appears yet better when, his waist encircled with the
gold-laced scarf, he goes in triumph at the head of the municipal
body.

Everybody was sound asleep at the mayor's when the two Bertauds
rapped the heavy knocker of the door. After a moment, a servant,
half asleep, appeared at one of the ground-floor windows.

"What's the matter, you rascals?" asked he, growling.

Jean did not think it best to revenge an insult which his