"I," he continued, "was born to live happy and ignored in the depths of some village with all my family around me. People don't know me, my little fellow. I seem to be very flighty. But in reality not at all, I should adore remaining near my wife, I would willingly abandon my affairs for a modest income which would enable me to retire to Plassans. You are about to become rich, make yourself a home with Louise in which you will live like two turtle-doves. It's so nice! I will go to see you. It will do me good."
He ended by having sobs in his voice. Meanwhile they had reached the iron gate of the mansion, and stood talking on the curb of the side-walk. A sharp north-east wind swept over these Parisian heights. Not a sound arose in the pale night, white with frost. Maxime, surprised by his father's sentimentality, had for a moment past had a question on his lips.
"But you," he said at last, "it seems to me—"
"What?"
"As regards your wife!"
Saccard shrugged his shoulders.
"Eh! quite so! I was a fool. That's why I speak to you by experience—However we have become husband and wife again, oh! quite so. It happened nearly six weeks ago. I go and join her of an evening when I don't return home too late. To-night however the poor ducky must dispense with me; I have to work till daylight. She has such an awfully fine figure!"
As Maxime held out his hand to his father the latter detained him, and added in a lower key, in a confidential tone:
"You know Blanche Müller's figure, well, it's that, but ten times more supple. And such hips! They have a curve, a delicacy—"
And then he concluded by saying to the young fellow who was going off: