"Here are thirty sous, Boudoux; go and put them on in my name, and bring me back the ticket."
Boudoux went off, breaking off, with his right hand, huge chunks of the bread which he carried under his left arm. His aunt Chapuis kept both the post-office and the lottery-office.
Ten minutes later, Boudoux returned with the ticket. There was only a fragment of crust left of the eight-pound loaf, and that he finished before my eyes. It was the final day of the lottery. I should know, therefore, by Saturday morning whether I had won my seventy-three francs or lost my thirty sous.
Friday was taken up with making preparations for my Parisian housekeeping. My mother would have liked me to carry off everything in the house; but I realised that, with my twelve hundred francs per annum, the smaller the room the more economical it would be, and I stuck to the bed, the four chairs, and the chest of drawers.
One slight inconvenience remained to me. General Foy had told me that I was a supernumerary at twelve hundred francs; but these hundred francs per month which the munificence of Monseigneur the Duc d'Orléans conceded me would not be paid me until the end of the month. I had not Boudoux's appetite, but I could certainly eat and eat very heartily: General Verdier had not been out in his surmise.
I had thirty-five francs left out of my fifty. My mother decided to part with another hundred francs: it was half of what she had left. It went to my heart very bitterly to take my poor mother's hundred francs, and I was just thinking of having recourse to the purse of M. Danré, when, in the midst of our discussion, which took place on Saturday morning, I heard Boudoux's voice shouting out—
"Ah! M. Dumas, now this is well worth a second eight-pound loaf."
"What is worth an eight-pound loaf?"
"No. 9 came up! If you go to aunt Chapuis's office, she will count you out your seventy-three francs."
My mother and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Boudoux.