“Our agreement?”
“Yes. After the Commune, it was understood that I would give you ten francs a month on the old account; as long as I give them to you, you have nothing to ask.”
Crimson with rage, Mme. Fortin had risen from her seat.
“Formerly,” she interrupted, “I presumed I had to deal with a poor working-girl, an honest girl.”
Mlle. Lucienne took no notice of the insult.
“I have not the amount you ask,” she said coldly.
“Well, then,” vociferated the other, “you must go and ask it of those who pay for your carriages and your dresses.”
Still impassible, the girl, instead of answering, stretched her hand towards her key; but M. Fortin stopped her arm.
“No, no!” he said with a giggle. “People who don’t pay their hotel-bill sleep out, my darling.”
Maxence, that very morning, had received his month’s pay, and he felt, as it were, his two hundred francs trembling in his pockets.