"There, in that corner.—Come, Freluchon, I should be very glad to know what all this means."
"Just a moment,—when the fire's well kindled; good! now it's blazing up. A fine invention is fire; it must have been the sun that suggested the idea. The Peruvians worship the sun, and I believe I am descended from them. I too worship the sun—especially in winter; in summer I would gladly do without it."
"When you've finished, perhaps you'll answer me."
"How impatient he is! Let us go softly—piano, as the Italians say.—My dear fellow, this is what has happened: we went much too fast with those young women—so-called flower-makers! We made love to them, they listened to us; they are very pretty. Now, that is all very well, but we undertook to dazzle them by our generosity—there's the foolish blunder! Not content with treating them to superfine dinners, set off with iced wines which they poured down like Prussians, we began at once to give them presents. You gave your Amélia a beautiful opera glass which you used at the theatre, and I handed over a dainty gold-rimmed eyeglass which I had lent to Henriette, who assured me that it was perfectly adapted to her sight. When those damsels saw that they had only to wish in order to obtain, they said to themselves: 'We must wish for something else.'—They took us for great nobles or for gulls—perhaps for both—and determined to hold us to ransom."
"You always think that somebody is trying to cheat you. Why think that of those young flower-makers, who seem to be fond of work and to lead orderly lives? I have been to Amélia's only three times, but I have always found them at work making flowers."
"So have I; but I have noticed that it was always the same flower that was under way. It seems that it's a difficult one to make!"
"They don't seem to be hard up; they have some very pretty mahogany furniture, which they pay for by pleasure."
"Yes; as for that, I have never doubted it. Indeed, Henriette told me, in the beginning of our intimacy, when I complimented her on her lodgings, that she had paid for it all by her work and by the way she passed her nights; but as they lie constantly, they forget one day what they told you the day before. Here's a proof of it—look."
"What is this letter?"
"A billet-doux that I received from Henriette this morning; she doesn't write badly, I must do her that justice; and not a mistake in spelling! That's very nice for a flower-maker, but it's all the more dangerous. Take it and read it."