“Comedy!” said the notary contemptuously.
“Though her mother’s life depends on her staying here.”
“Comedy!” said Perrin. Raynal frowned.
“Her pride (begging her pardon) is greater than her affection.”
“Farce!”
“I have pitched upon you to reconcile the two.”
“Then you have pitched upon the wrong man,” said Perrin bluntly. He added obsequiously, “I am too much your friend. She has been talking you over, no doubt; but you have a friend, an Ulysses, who is deaf to the siren’s voice. I will be no party to such a transaction. I will not co-operate to humbug my friend and rob him of his rights.”
If Josephine was inferior to the notary in petty sharpness, she was his superior in the higher kinds of sagacity; and particularly in instinctive perception of character. Her eye flashed with delight at the line Perrin was now taking with Raynal. The latter speedily justified her expectations: he just told Perrin to be off, and send him a more accommodating notary.
“A more accommodating notary!” screamed Perrin, stung to madness by this reproach. “There is not a more accommodating notary in Europe. Ungrateful man! is this the return for all my zeal, my integrity, my unselfishness? Is there another agent in the world who would have let such a bargain as Beaurepaire fall into your hands? It serves me right for deviating from the rules of business. Send me another agent—oh!”
The honest soldier was confused. The lawyer’s eloquence overpowered him. He felt guilty. Josephine saw his simplicity, and made a cut with a woman’s two-edged sword. “Sir,” said she coolly, “do you not see it is an affair of money? This is his way of saying, Pay me handsomely for so unusual a commission.”