“What oath can a Jew swear?” she inquired.
“You may trust him,” replied the marine store-dealer. “He is as honest as I am.”
“Very well; and you?” asked she, “if I get him to sell them to you, what will you give me?”
“Half-share of profits,” Remonencq answered briskly.
“I would rather have a lump sum,” returned La Cibot; “I am not in business myself.”
“You understand business uncommonly well!” put in Elie Magus, smiling; “a famous saleswoman you would make!”
“I want her to take me into partnership, me and my goods,” said the Auvergnat, as he took La Cibot’s plump arm and gave it playful taps like hammer-strokes. “I don’t ask her to bring anything into the firm but her good looks! You are making a mistake when your stick to your Turk of a Cibot and his needle. Is a little bit of a porter the man to make a woman rich—a fine woman like you? Ah, what a figure you would make in a shop on the boulevard, all among the curiosities, gossiping with amateurs and twisting them round your fingers! Just you leave your lodge as soon as you have lined your purse here, and you shall see what will become of us both.”
“Lined my purse!” cried Cibot. “I am incapable of taking the worth of a single pin; you mind that, Remonencq! I am known in the neighborhood for an honest woman, I am.”
La Cibot’s eyes flashed fire.
“There, never mind,” said Elie Magus; “this Auvergnat seems to be too fond of you to mean to insult you.”