Wasn't it sweet weather for tramping
the streets? If he hadn't been such an idiot they would both be warmly
tucked in bed instead of paddling about in the mud. Then he spoke of
Gagneux--a scoundrel whose diseased meat had on three separate occasions
made the whole regiment ill. In a week, however, the contract would come
to an end, and the fiend himself would not get it renewed.
"It rests with me," the major grumbled. "I can select whomsoever I
choose, and I'd rather cut off my right arm than put that poisoner in
the way of earning another copper."
Just then he slipped into a gutter and, half choked by a string of
oaths, he gasped:
"You understand--I am going to rout up Gagneux. You must stop outside
while I go in. I must know what the rascal is up to and if he'll dare to
carry out his threat of informing the colonel tomorrow. A butcher--curse
him! The idea of compromising oneself with a butcher! Ah, you aren't
over-proud, and I shall never forgive you for all this."
They had now reached the Place aux Herbes. Gagneux's house was quite
dark, but Laguitte knocked so loudly that he was eventually admitted.
Burle remained alone in the dense obscurity and did not even attempt to
seek any shelter.
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