“Certainly, ordinary publicity, but not extraordinary. You must see that is unlikely, as it will be all for your advantage.”
Though little conversant with business, as the agent had just remarked, I saw that his arguments were not always in accordance with logic. However, I consented to the posters and the lithograph, in consideration of the promised results.
“That is right,” the agent said, his familiarity sensibly increasing since the signature of the contract—“that is right: that is what I call managing things properly.”
And my man left me, after complimenting me once more on the arrangement I had made.
When left to myself, I indulged at my ease in daydreams about the magnificent result promised me, and this anticipated joy was probably all I tasted from the moment of signing this engagement to its termination. The first unpleasantness it occasioned me was a slight discussion with my cashier, that is to say, my wife, who, in consideration of her employment, had a deliberative voice in all theatrical matters. I could not certainly have found an employée of greater probity, or a more devoted clerk, but I am bound to say that this clerk, probably through her intimate connexion with her employer, sometimes ventured to contradict him. Thus I feared when I described to that functionary the brilliant perspective of my agreement.
Although I finished my statement with this harmonious phrase, on every word of which I laid a heavy stress, in order to give it more value, “and we shall return to France with one—hundred—thousand—francs clear profit,” my wife, or rather my cashier, coolly said to me:
“Well, in your place, I should not have made such a bargain.”
“But why not?” I said, piqued by this unexpected opposition.
“Why? because nothing guarantees you the promised profits, while you are perfectly certain as to your expenses.”
Wishing to cut short a discussion from which I did not see my way out with honor: