One evening in the month of March, Jacques having taken the risk of going up to see her, related that he had brought one of his old schoolfellows in his train from Paris, who was leaving for New York, to bring out a new invention, a machine for making buttons; and, as he wanted an engineer as partner, he had offered to take the driver with him. Oh! it was a magnificent enterprise, only requiring the investment of 30,000 frcs., a matter of £1,200, and in which there were perhaps millions to be made. Jacques merely mentioned the subject casually, and concluded by saying that he had of course refused the offer. Nevertheless, he felt a bit sorry, for it is hard to turn the back on fortune when it comes to one.
Séverine, on her feet, listened to him with vacant eyes. Was not this her dream which was going to be realised?
"Ah!" murmured she at last, "we would start to-morrow——"
He raised his head in surprise, and interrupted her with the inquiry:
"What do you mean by we would start?"
"Yes, if he were dead," she replied.
She had not named Roubaud, but he understood, and gave a vague gesture to say that, unfortunately, he was not dead.
"We would set out," she resumed in her slow, deep voice, "and we should be so happy over there! I could get the 30,000 frcs. by selling the property, and I should still have enough to enable us to settle down. You could turn the cash to account; I would arrange a little home, where we would love one another with all our might. Oh! it would be so nice, so nice!"
And she added, very low: