“A pack of ignorant beggars,” said he, “who are satisfied with sticking a certain quantity of silk on so much whalebone! They buy their handles by the gross, handles readymade. And they sell just what they like! I tell you, art is done for!”
Denise began to take courage. He had insisted on having Pépé down in the shop to play, for he was wonderfully fond of children. When the little one was crawling about on all-fours, neither of them had room to move, she in her corner doing the mending, he near the window, carving with his little pocket-knife. Every day now brought on the same work and the same conversation. Whilst working, he continually pitched into The Ladies' Paradise; never tired of explaining how affairs stood. He had occupied his house since 1845, and had a thirty years' lease, at a rent of eighteen hundred francs a year; and, as he made a thousand francs out of his four furnished rooms, he only paid eight hundred for the shop. It was a mere trifle, he had no expenses, and could thus hold out for a long time still. To hear him, there was no doubt about his triumph; he would certainly swallow up the monster. Suddenly he would interrupt himself.
“Have they got any dog's heads like that?”
And he would blink his eyes behind his glasses, to judge the dog's head he was carving, with its lip turned up and fangs out, in a life-like growl. Pépé, delighted with the dog, would get up, placing his two little arms on the old man's knee.
“As long as I make both ends meet I don't care a hang about the rest,” the latter would resume, delicately shaping the dog's tongue with the point of his knife. “The scoundrels have taken away my profits; but if I'm making nothing I'm not losing anything yet, or at least but very little. And, you see, I'm ready to sacrifice everything rather than yield.”
He would brandish his knife, and his white hair would blow about in a storm of anger.
“But,” Denise would mildly observe, without raising her eyes from her needle, “if they made you a reasonable offer, it would be wiser to accept.”
Then his ferocious obstinacy would burst forth. “Never! If my head were under the knife I would say no, by heavens! I've another ten years' lease, and they shall not have the house before then, even if I should have to die of hunger within the four bare walls. Twice already have they tried to get over me. They offered me twelve thousand francs for my good-will, and eighteen thousand francs for the last ten years of my lease; in all thirty thousand. Not for fifty thousand even! I have them in my power, and intend to see them licking the dust before me!”
“Thirty thousand francs! it's a good sum,” Denise would resume. “You could go and establish yourself elsewhere. And suppose they were to buy the house?”
Bourras, putting the finishing touches to his dog's tongue, would appear absorbed for a moment, an infantine laugh pervading his venerable prophet's face. Then he would, continue: “The house, no fear! They spoke of buying it last year, and offered eighty thousand francs, twice as much as it's worth. But the landlord, a retired fruiterer, as big a scoundrel as they, wanted to make them shell out more. But not only that, they are suspicious about me; they know I'm not so likely to give way. No! no! here I am, and here I intend to stay. The emperor with all his cannon could not turn me out.” Denise never dared say any more, she would go on with her work, whilst the old man continued to break out in short sentences, between two cuts with his knife, muttering something to the effect that the game had hardly commenced, later on they would see wonderful things, he had certain plans which would sweep away their umbrella counter; and, in his obstinacy, there appeared a personal revolt of the small manufacturer against the threatening invasion of the great shops. Pépé, however, would at last climb on his knees, and impatiently stretch out his hand towards the dog's head.