“My father has no friends.”
“As times go, that is perhaps as well. But one must have acquaintances: one cannot live like a bear.”
“My father lives like a philosopher.”
“It is the same thing,” said Lansade. “Now, since your good star has conducted you to my door, I wish to be useful to you. First, take these cards, which have my address. Do not lose them. I will close my store, and then conduct you to Madame Morin, a lady who rents chambers. She is a fine woman, who will take care of you. I am not sorry to take her a tenant. I shall thereby render service to two persons.”
“You are very good, monsieur,” said Eusebe: “I cannot tell you how much I am obliged to you.”
“It is not worth mentioning. As soon as I have closed my store, we will set out.”
“Shall I assist you?” inquired Eusebe.
“I have only three shutters to put up. For twenty-five years I have put them up at night and taken them down in the morning. You may presume that I have learned my task.”
So saying, the merchant set about closing his shop. Eusebe was quite another man: his anxiety had vanished. After waiting a few moments, he went to the door. Lansade had made no progress. He stood looking at the shutters, and seemed puzzled.