"Ah! I see monsieur is generous—I leave it to him."
"Well," said Pierre, lighting a fresh cigarette, and blowing a few whiffs in silence, "let me see. Supposing I pay you ten francs a day. What do you say to that?"
"Oh, mon cher monsieur!—"
"Don't address me as 'mon cher,'" Pierre interrupted. "Please remember you are my servant, and not my equal."
"Pardon, monsieur, a thousand apologies, it was my great appreciation of your nobility of character that warmed my heart towards you and impelled me to say this."
"Look here, Monsieur Emile, if you think you are going to get round me by that sort of blarney you're jolly mistaken. Tell me what you are prepared to accept, and don't try on any more of your monkey-brand soap on me, it won't wash. You'll provoke me to say something in a moment that you won't like. Now out with it. How much?"
"Ah! Monsieur is too cruel. The last time I undertook a commission like this I reluctantly accepted a hundred francs a day, but as I have taken a great fancy to you I will make an immense sacrifice and accept fifty francs."
"I suppose you think I'm a soft-headed idiot, and that I believe all your silly tales. Well, I may as well be frank and tell you that I don't believe a word you say. Look here, I'll offer you fifteen francs a day, and not a sou more. You may take it or leave it as you please."
Emile Levasseur cowed under the stern voice of Pierre, and seeing that the game was up, shrugged his shoulders, and spreading out the palms of his hands in a supplicatory fashion with a look of intense resignation and reluctance, accepted the offer.