Monsieur Bouchard, assuming the attitude and tone with which he addressed a couple of criminals in the pursuit of his professional duties, then continued:
“This is a very auspicious opportunity for me to speak to you both, in each other’s presence, with a view to your mutual reform. Observe the word; I use it advisedly.” He paused. Léontine trembled with apprehension, while de Meneval surreptitiously mopped his brow. “You have both of you been very extravagant—wasteful, I may say. Nothing that I have yet said has availed to stop the outgo of money far beyond your reasonable wants—so I think. Now, I have come to the conclusion that in order for you to economize you must give up your apartment. You must leave Paris.”
Leave Paris!
De Meneval was not so stunned but that he could get up rather a ghastly laugh.
“Leave Paris! Ha, ha! That’s little enough to me, Papa Bouchard—Léontine and ballistics are all I want to make me happy anywhere—but Léontine—oh, I know she won’t go!”
“Won’t she, eh? Not to an inexpensive little cottage outside of Paris—within striking distance of Melun, so you may go back and forth—a very inexpensive cottage?”
“Well, if that’s your game,” cried de Meneval, savagely, “there are plenty of cottages to be had at Melun. Our veterinarian has just given up his cottage—three rooms and a dog kennel. That’s cheap enough. Shall I take it to-morrow for Captain and Madame de Meneval?”
“You are trifling, Monsieur le Capitaine,” coolly answered Papa Bouchard. “You understand perfectly well what I mean.”
“But, Papa Bouchard,” put in Léontine, faintly, “while I don’t object to the cottage, it would be cruel to Victor to force him away from Paris. It is so dull, anyway, at Melun. The only recreation he has is when he comes to Paris. Poor, poor Victor!”
Léontine was almost weeping—de Meneval was swearing between his teeth. Papa Bouchard was waving his arm about, serene in the consciousness of power.