“The servant is better than the mistress.”
“Why, of course! always!” said Trublot, with a shrug of the shoulders, full of a disdainful conviction.
Clarisse came and talked with them for a moment. She multiplied herself, going from one to another, casting a word here, a laugh or gesture there. As each new-comer lighted a cigar the drawing-room was soon full of smoke.
“Oh! the horrid men!” exclaimed she, prettily, as she went and opened a window.
Without losing any time, Bachelard made Monsieur Josserand comfortable in the recess of this window, to enable him to breathe, said he. Then, thanks to a masterly maneuver, he brought Duveyrier to an anchor there also, and quickly broached the affair. So the two families were about to be united by a close tie; he felt highly honored. Then he inquired what day the marriage contract was going to be signed, and that led him up to the matter in hand.
“We intended calling on you to-morrow, Josserand and I, to settle everything, for we are aware that Monsieur Auguste would do nothing without you. It is with respect to the payment of the dowry; and, really, as we are so comfortable here——”
Monsieur Josserand, again suffering the greatest anguish, looked out into the gloomy depths of the Rue de la Cerisaie, with its deserted pavements, and its dark façades. He regretted having come. They were again going to take advantage of his weakness and engage him in some disgraceful affair, which would cause him no end of suffering afterward. A feeling of revolt made him interrupt his brother-in-law.
“Another time; this is not a fitting place, really.”
“But why, pray?” exclaimed Duveyrier, very graciously. “We are better here than anywhere else. You were saying, sir?”
“We give Berthe fifty thousand francs,” continued the uncle. “Only, these fifty thousand francs are represented by a dotal insurance at twenty years’ date, which Josserand took out for his daughter when she was four years old. She will, therefore, only receive the money in three years’ time——”