“Well, Laurent, how is your chief of division going on?”
“Oh, don’t talk to me about him; I can’t do anything with him. He rings me up to ask if I have seen his handkerchief or his snuff-box. He receives people without making them wait; in short, he hasn’t a bit of dignity. I’m often obliged to say to him: But, monsieur, monsieur le comte your predecessor, for the credit of the thing, used to punch holes with his penknife in the arms of his chair to make believe he was working. And he makes such a mess of his room. I find everything topsy-turvy. He has a very small mind. How about your man?”
“Mine? Oh, I have succeeded in training him. He knows exactly where his letter-paper and envelopes, his wood, and his boxes and all the rest of his things are. The other man used to swear at me, but this one is as meek as a lamb,—still, he hasn’t the grand style! Moreover, he isn’t decorated, and I don’t like to serve a chief who isn’t; he might be taken for one of us, and that’s humiliating. He carries the office letter-paper home, and asked me if I couldn’t go there and wait at table when there was company.”
“Hey! what a government, my dear fellow!”
“Yes, indeed; everybody plays low in these days.”
“I hope they won’t cut down our poor wages.”
“I’m afraid they will. The Chambers are prying into everything. Why, they even count the sticks of wood.”
“Well, it can’t last long if they go on that way.”
“Hush, we’re caught! somebody is listening.”
“Hey! it is the late Monsieur Rabourdin. Ah, monsieur, I knew your step. If you have business to transact here I am afraid you will not find any one who is aware of the respect that ought to be paid to you; Laurent and I are the only persons remaining about the place who were here in your day. Messieurs Colleville and Baudoyer didn’t wear out the morocco of the chairs after you left. Heavens, no! six months later they were made Collectors of Paris.”