“Oh, oh! go it! go it!”
“I will show you up. I shall tell my husband.”
“All right! I too. I’ll show your husband something.”
And Lheureux drew from his strong box the receipt for eighteen hundred francs that she had given him when Vincart had discounted the bills.
“Do you think,” he added, “that he’ll not understand your little theft, the poor dear man?”
She collapsed, more overcome than if felled by the blow of a pole-axe. He was walking up and down from the window to the bureau, repeating all the while—
“Ah! I’ll show him! I’ll show him!” Then he approached her, and in a soft voice said—
“It isn’t pleasant, I know; but, after all, no bones are broken, and, since that is the only way that is left for you paying back my money—”
“But where am I to get any?” said Emma, wringing her hands.
“Bah! when one has friends like you!”