“Firmin? I expect you know,” said the man, “that he left the seminary because he had no vocation. But the gentlemen there were kind enough to interest themselves in him, after they had expelled him. Abbé Lantaigne found a place for him as tutor at a Marquis’s house in Poitou. But Firmin refused it just out of spite. He is in Paris now, teaching at an institution in the Rue Saint-Jacques, but he doesn’t earn much.” And the cobbler added sadly:
“What I want....”
He stopped and then began again.
“I have been a widower for twelve years. What I want is a wife, because it needs a woman to manage a house.”
Relapsing into silence, he drove three nails into the leather of the sole and added:
“Only I must have a steady woman.”
He returned to his task. Then suddenly raising his worn and sorrowful face towards the foggy sky, he muttered:
“And besides, it is so sad to be alone!”
M. Bergeret felt pleased, for he had just caught sight of Paillot standing on the threshold of his shop. He got up to leave:
“Good-day, Piedagnel!” said he. “Mind and keep the instep high enough!”