“With two pieces; I’ll go without myself.”
“Go without sugar at your age! I’d rather buy you some out of my own pocket.”
“Mind your own business.”
In spite of the recent fall in prices, sugar was still in Grandet’s eyes the most valuable of all the colonial products; to him it was always six francs a pound. The necessity of economizing it, acquired under the Empire, had grown to be the most inveterate of his habits. All women, even the greatest ninnies, know how to dodge and dodge to get their ends; Nanon abandoned the sugar for the sake of getting the galette.
“Mademoiselle!” she called through the window, “do you want some galette?”
“No, no,” answered Eugenie.
“Come, Nanon,” said Grandet, hearing his daughter’s voice. “See here.” He opened the cupboard where the flour was kept, gave her a cupful, and added a few ounces of butter to the piece he had already cut off.
“I shall want wood for the oven,” said the implacable Nanon.
“Well, take what you want,” he answered sadly; “but in that case you must make us a fruit-tart, and you’ll cook the whole dinner in the oven. In that way you won’t need two fires.”
“Goodness!” cried Nanon, “you needn’t tell me that.”