And the silk went to increase the heap on the floor. Then he continued a conversation commenced, by saying to Favier: “So he wanted to fight you?”
“Yes, I was quietly drinking my glass of beer. It was hardly worth while contradicting me, she has just received a letter from the governor inviting her to dinner. The whole shop is talking about it.”
“What! it wasn't done!”
Favier handed him another piece.
“A caution, isn't it? One would have staked his life on it. It seemed like an old connection.”
“Ditto, twenty-five yards!” cried Hutin.
The dull thud of the piece was heard, whilst he added in a lower tone: “She carried on fearfully, you know, at that old fool Bourras's.”
The whole department was now joking about the affair, without, however, allowing the work to suffer. The young girl's name passed from mouth to mouth, the fellows arched their backs and winked. Bouthemont himself, who took a rare delight in such gay stories, could not help adding his joke, the bad taste of which filled his heart with joy. Albert, waking up a bit, swore he had seen Denise with two soldiers at the Gros-Caillou. At that moment Mignot came down, with the twenty francs he had just borrowed, and he stopped to slip ten francs into Albert's hand, making an appointment with him for the evening; a projected lark, restrained for want of money, but still possible, notwithstanding the smallness of the sum. But handsome Mignot, when he heard about the famous letter, made such an abominable remark, that Bouthemont was obliged to interfere.
“That's enough, gentlemen. It isn't our business. Go on, Monsiéur Hutin.”
“Fancy silk, small check, thirty-two yards, at six francs and a half,” cried out the latter.