H. DE SAYNTHINE
Hilaire had been in the service of his new master for several days. So far, he was extremely satisfied with his new and singular position. His pay was by no means small. When he first called on M. de Saynthine he was subjected to a searching scrutiny, and his master said: "He looks an ass, but he must be pretty quick-witted."
Such criticism was hardly likely to meet with Hilaire's approval, but he was consoled by the first part of the sentence, and he said to himself:
"I look what I wish to look at the moment."
After closing the door of the study in which he interviewed him, M. de Saynthine, who was a well set-up, middle-aged man, went on arranging his tie before the glass, which enabled him to watch Hilaire's every movement.
"You were recommended to me, my lad," he said, "by a friend of Mlle. Nina Noha, who told me that you have a very reliable character" (M. Hilaire bowed), "and are so discreet that you would even decline to tell me the extent of your zeal in your late master's interests. I understood that you rendered him very substantial services, which were only interrupted by the unexpected outbreak of war. That suits me admirably. I am told, also, that you are not the sort of man to work for nothing, and your devotion doesn't run counter to your interests. I will give you a thousand francs a month. Will that satisfy you?"
"That will suit me to begin with," returned Hilaire, without moving a muscle.
"Then we are agreed," concluded M. de Saynthine. "But it is understood that you do absolutely as you're told without asking questions, or endeavoring to understand what is not explained to you; and you will pretend not to understand when you do understand. Moreover, you must not be surprised at anything."
"Monsieur, that's settled. It's just the sort of place that I've been looking for."
"Well, go and see M. Onésime Belon, who will tell you what you have to do from day to day. He is the man with whom you will have to deal when it's a question of any special business. You must take your orders from him as though he were myself. . . ."