He took out the four louis d’or and looked at them:
“How cursed mean to make me pay Barbera! I expected at least ten louis d’or for myself besides the one for expenses. I have always said that if he played me a mean trick, I would drop him. He has never half paid me for what I have done.”
Thus soliloquising, he walked on until he once more reached the cabaret. Again he beckoned to Barbera to follow him to the private room.
“I have an explanation to make to you,” said Villefort.
“I think it is about time,” exclaimed Barbera. “What in the devil did you get me to write such a letter for, then bring it back and tell me to tear it up? I thought you had something on hand that would pay us both well.”
“That’s what I’m going to explain,” said Villefort. “Order up a bottle of wine. I’m cursed thirsty, for I have been walking an hour over dusty roads, and I get nothing for my time or trouble.”
“I thought Monsieur Villefort was too sharp-witted, and his services too valuable, to long serve a poor paymaster.”
“I am done with him!” cried Villefort with sudden determination, and, as he spoke, he brought his wine-glass down upon the table with such force as to break it into fragments.
“Well spoken, Villefort!” cried Barbera. “You are too smart a man to play second fiddle always.”
“I’m coming to think so myself,” said Villefort. “Let me explain. I am going to tell you the whole story, but you must keep your mouth shut.”