Edmond took the letter that his friend handed him and read as follows:
"My dear Freluchon:
"A terrible catastrophe has befallen me; my furniture, which I thought was paid for, is not. The upholsterer is going to compel me to leave my apartment instantly, if I do not pay four hundred francs on account. Be kind enough to lend me that amount, which I will pay you very soon. Otherwise you will not find me at my rooms, as I shall be turned out, and I have no idea where Amélia and I will go. You may hand the money to the woman who brings this letter; but be sure to seal it.
"Your loving and faithful friend,
"HENRIETTE."
"Well! what do you say to that?"
"Why! I say—but what reply did you make? did you send the money?"
"I'm not so foolish, I tell you! In the first place, this letter is altogether too much! What does she mean by 'her furniture, that she thought was paid for, but is not?' And this upholsterer who will have her turned out of her apartments if she doesn't pay him? An upholsterer may take back his furniture, but he doesn't turn you into the street by that. The trick was too plain; and in order to write such stuff to a man, one must take him for a goose. As I don't care to be likened to that bird, I instantly informed the messenger that I was terribly distressed, that I was in despair, but that I was unable to hand her anything for Mademoiselle Henriette, and she went away with that answer.—Bigre! four hundred francs at one slap, for a flower-maker—that's too magnificent! You aim too high, my love!"
"Well! what next?"
"Why, there is no next."
"Didn't Henriette send to you again?"