"It has never been my intention, monsieur, to try to let rooms to strangers. My house is quite large enough for my friend and myself, and that is enough."
"Oh! that makes a difference. You have furnished it very nicely; it was furnished already, but you have added various things; this couch was Monsieur Courtivaux's, but that étagère wasn't here, or these easy-chairs—Oh, yes! they did belong to Monsieur Courtivaux, but those two pictures weren't his."
"I should say, monsieur, that you had taken an inventory of the property. You must know how many trees there are in the garden?"
"Not exactly, but very nearly; and wretched trees, too—worth nothing! oh! miserable trees!"
"Monsieur doesn't know much about trees, I judge," exclaimed Agathe angrily. "We have the finest lindens it is possible to imagine!"
"Oh! excuse me, mademoiselle, but I consider no trees good that do not bear good fruit and in large quantity. The linden bears nothing—oh, yes! they do make an infusion of the leaves, but you can buy a great quantity for two sous! As a general rule, the land hereabout is poor; it's very stony."
"That being so, why did you come here to live, monsieur?"
"Oh! as a matter of business, you know. I still do a little something. When I can accommodate people, I never refuse, although it's very dangerous, they are all so tricky!—There's a piano which certainly was not here in Monsieur Courtivaux's time. Are you ladies fond of music?"
"Very, monsieur."
"It's very nice for people who have nothing to do. My wife used to play the guitar a little, but I put a stop to it; she broke too many strings; and then, when a woman wants to look after her housekeeping, she must give up music. I said to her: 'My dear love, you must choose: if you keep on playing the guitar, your dishes will be badly washed.'—She realized the force of that reasoning, and the instrument was sold."