Remembering Monsieur Alain’s injunction to parsimony in his personal expenses, Godefroid dined for twenty-five sous in the rue de Tournon, and was rewarded for his abnegation by finding himself in the midst of compositors and pressmen. He heard a discussion on costs of manufacturing, and learned that an edition of one thousand copies of an octavo volume of forty sheets did not cost more than thirty sous a copy, in the best style of printing. He resolved to ascertain the price at which publishers of law books sold their volumes, so as to be prepared for a discussion with the men who held Monsieur Bernard in their clutches if he should have to meet them.
Towards seven in the evening he returned to the boulevard du Mont-Parnasse, by way of the rue de Vaugiraud and the rue de l’Ouest, and he saw then how deserted the quarter was, for he met no one. It is true that the cold was rigorous, and the snow fell in great flakes, the wheels of the carriages making no noise upon the pavements.
“Ah, here you are, monsieur!” said Madame Vauthier. “If I had known you were coming home so early I would have made your fire.”
“I don’t want one,” said Godefroid, seeing that the widow followed him. “I shall spend the evening in Monsieur Bernard’s apartment.”
“Well, well! you must be his cousin, if you are hand and glove like that! Perhaps monsieur will finish now the little conversation we began.”
“Ah, yes!—about that four hundred francs. Look here, my good Madame Vauthier, you are trying to see which way the cat jumps, and you’ll tumble yourself between two stools. As for me, you have betrayed me, and made me miss the whole affair.”
“Now, don’t think that, my dear monsieur. To-morrow, while you breakfast—”
“To-morrow I shall not breakfast here. I am going out, like your authors, at cock-crow.”
Godefroid’s antecedents, his life as a man of the world and a journalist, served him in this, that he felt quite sure, unless he took this tone, that Barbet’s spy would warn the old publisher of danger, and probably lead to active measures under which Monsieur Bernard would before long be arrested; whereas, if he left the trio of harpies to suppose that their scheme ran no risk of defeat, they would keep quiet.
But Godefroid did not yet know Parisian human nature when embodied in a Vauthier. That woman resolved to have Godefroid’s money and Barbet’s too. She instantly ran off to her proprietor, while Godefroid changed his clothes in order to present himself properly before the daughter of Monsieur Bernard.