He sat down, folded his arms, and said:
“You are a vile rascal, you must admit.”
“No insults, Monsieur Barberou. There are witnesses. Be careful!”
“I’ll bring an action against you!”
“Ta! ta! ta!” Then having fastened together his books, Gouttman lifted the brim of his hat: “I wish you luck on’t!” With these words he went off.
Barberou explained the facts: For a credit of a thousand francs doubled by a succession of renewals with interest, he had delivered to Gouttman three thousand francs’ worth of wines. This would pay his debt with a profit of a thousand francs; but, on the contrary, he owed three thousand on the transaction! His employers might dismiss him; they might even prosecute him!
“Blackguard! robber! dirty Jew! And this fellow dines at priests’ houses! Besides, everything that touches the clerical headpiece——”
And he went on railing against the priests, and he struck the table with such violence that the little statue was near falling.
“Gently!” said Bouvard.
“Hold on! What’s this here?” And Barberou having removed the covering of the little Virgin: “A pilgrimage bauble! Yours?”