“What is your own idea?” Jean Cointet put in briskly.
“Three thousand francs for six months,” said she.
“Why, my dear young lady, you were proposing to sell the place outright for twenty thousand francs,” said Boniface with much suavity. “The interest on twenty thousand francs is only twelve hundred francs per annum at six per cent.”
For a moment Eve was thrown into confusion; she saw the need for discretion in matters of business.
“You wish to use our presses and our name as well,” she said; “and, as I have already shown you, I can still do a little business. And then we pay rent to M. Séchard senior, who does not load us with presents.”
After two hours of debate, Eve obtained two thousand francs for six months, one thousand to be paid in advance. When everything was concluded, the brothers informed her that they meant to put in Cérizet as lessee of the premises. In spite of herself, Eve started with surprise.
“Isn’t it better to have somebody who knows the workshop?” asked the fat Cointet.
Eve made no reply; she took leave of the brothers, vowing inwardly to look after Cérizet.
“Well, here are our enemies in the place!” laughed David, when Eve brought out the papers for his signature at dinner-time.
“Pshaw!” said she, “I will answer for Kolb and Marion; they alone would look after things. Besides, we shall be making an income of four thousand francs from the workshop, which only costs us money as it is; and looking forward, I see a year in which you may realize your hopes.”