"What then?"
"Listen. To the right of the old man there was a picture of a lady in a low cut dress. A red dress with all kinds of dangles on the sleeves and bodice. Mme. Derize took in the costume at a glance, you understand; she said: 'Lace looks very well with velvet.' Her husband was furious and did not say another word while they were in the gallery."
"And after that?" said Vitrolle.
"After that? Nothing. Divorce, that's all."
His hearers burst into insolent laughter which vexed Malaunay, for he was proud of his keen insight and exceedingly sensitive. This discussion of art bored the scribblers who had expected a more risqué story. The entrance of the chief put an end to their conference.
Without being old, M. Tabourin appeared so, because he was untidy and looked as if he were covered with the dust of his folios. He had often envied the baldness of most of his colleagues, when hurriedly running a comb through his overabundant hair, for it remained rumpled like poor soil which closes up again after being plowed. He was absorbed in the duties of his office and gave no thought to the fit of his clothing, which hung loosely on his body and twisted itself into wrinkles with every movement. Business had such a fascination for him that he never confused it with the human tragedies hidden beneath it: he considered his cases as distinct persons in themselves, living and important, each one lodging in a folio, so that he did not need occupy himself with the repetition of decisions and of the procedure in compromised or ruined homes. Professionals are nearly all so constituted, and that is why their professions do not wear them out.
"Anything new?" he asked the head clerk. Vitrolle handed him the draft.
"The Derize Petition."
"Ah! Ah!"
This news brought out in M. Tabourin's dull face lines of cupidity, as the light shining in a badly aired room gathers together a group of atoms and invites them to dance. He drew nearer to the window to decipher Salvage's cramped writing. The clerks watched him curiously, with the exception of Malaunay, who was waiting for a good opportunity to leave. The lovely June sun was calling him to come out and walk.