Suddenly Mouret planted himself before him, and with his terrible voice he thundered: “I say, my man, you're rather too lively. You think me played out, don't you? and you feel hungry. But be careful, I'm not one to be swallowed up, you know!”
Discountenanced by the sharp attack of this wonderful fellow, who guessed everything, Bourdoncle stammered: “What now? Are you joking? I who have always admired you so!”
“Don't tell lies!” replied Mouret, more violently than ever “Just listen, we were stupid to entertain the superstition that marriage would ruin us. Is it not the necessary health, the very strength and order of life? Well, my dear fellow, I'm going to marry her, and I'll pitch you all out at the slightest movement. Yes, you'll go and be paid like the rest, Bourdoncle.”
And with a gesture he dismissed him. Bourdoncle felt himself condemned, swept away, by this victory gained by woman. He went off. Denise was just going in, and he bowed with a profound respect, his head swimming.
“Ah! you've come at last!” said Mouret gently.
Denise was pale with emotion. She had just experienced another grief, Deloche had informed her of his dismissal, and as she tried to retain him, offering to speak in his favour, he obstinately declined to struggle against his bad luck, he wanted to disappear, what was the use of staying? Why should he interfere with people who were happy? Denise had bade him a sisterly adieu, her eyes full of tears. Did she not herself long to sink into oblivion? Everything was now about to be finished, and she asked nothing more of her exhausted strength than the courage to support this separation. In a few minutes, if she could only be valiant enough to crush her heart, she could go away alone, to weep unseen.
“You wished to see me, sir,” she said in her calm voice. “In fact, I intended to come and thank you for all your kindness to me.”
On entering, she had perceived the million on the desk, and the display of this money wounded her. Above her, as if watching the scene, was the portrait of Madame Hédouin, in its gilded frame, and with the eternal smile of its painted lips.
“You are still resolved to leave us?” asked Mouret, in a trembling voice.
“Yes, sir. I must!”