"Now, Fouan," said Jean, "will you go to Buteau's and arrange about my having Françoise? You are the master, and you have only got to say the word."
"I cannot, I cannot," replied the old man in the darkness, with a jerky voice.
Then he broke out excitedly, and unbosomed himself of his brooding wrath. He had done with the Delhommes, he declared, and in the morning he would go to live with Buteau, who had offered to give him a home. Even if his son beat him, he would prefer that to being gradually tortured to death by his daughter's pin-thrusts.
This new obstacle exasperated Jean, and he spoke out bluntly:
"I must tell you, Monsieur Fouan, that Françoise and I have been together."
The old peasant uttered a simple exclamation: "Ah!" Then, after a moment's reflection, he added: "We had better wait. By-and-bye we'll see what can be done."
Fanny now appeared at the door, and called to her father to come in, as the soup was ready.
"Stick your soup behind!" shouted the old man, turning round to her. "I'm going to bed."
And, indeed, he went upstairs to bed, with an empty stomach, and boiling over with anger.