“Shall I fetch M. Tabareau?—for you will have a good deal on your hands before long. M. Tabareau is the most honest man in the quarter, you see.”
“Yes. Mennesir Dapareau! Somepody vas speaking of him chust now—” said Schmucke, completely beaten.
“Very well. You can be quiet, sir, and give yourself up to grief, when you have seen your deputy.”
It was nearly two o’clock when M. Tabareau’s head-clerk, a young man who aimed at a bailiff’s career, modestly presented himself. Youth has wonderful privileges; no one is alarmed by youth. This young man Villemot by name, sat down by Schmucke’s side and waited his opportunity to speak. His diffidence touched Schmucke very much.
“I am M. Tabareau’s head-clerk, sir,” he said; “he sent me here to take charge of your interests, and to superintend the funeral arrangements. Is this your wish?”
“You cannot safe my life, I haf not long to lif; but you vill leaf me in beace!”
“Oh! you shall not be disturbed,” said Villemot.
“Ver’ goot. Vat must I do for dat?”
“Sign this paper appointing M. Tabareau to act for you in all matters relating to the settlement of the affairs of the deceased.”
“Goot! gif it to me,” said Schmucke, anxious only to sign it at once.