On hearing this accusation from the mouth of the man who was robbing him, the farmer proudly raised his head and replied in a firm voice:
“I have never deceived anybody, monsieur! I am an honest man, and everybody in the neighborhood knows it; and if either of us has cheated the other I am not the one, do you understand?”
The usurer lowered his crest and his tone, as such men always do when they are afraid of being unmasked.
“Bless my soul! Guillot,” he rejoined; “don’t lose your temper; I may have said one word when I meant another; my tongue must have taken a twist. I never intended to attack your honesty; but of course you understand that I must get back what I have advanced.”
“I only owe you four hundred and eighty francs, monsieur.”
“Of principal, yes; but the interest, which never stops running—and interest on interest—all that counts up; so that you owe me to-day eight hundred and seventy-five francs, besides the costs of the execution and sale; it will amount to a thousand francs.”
“My God!”
“That’s why I am obliged to sell your cottage, as well as your furniture.”
“But suppose it should bring more, monsieur?”
“Oh! if it should bring more than your debt and the costs, the surplus would go to you—that’s your right; but unluckily, instead of going above a thousand francs, I’m afraid it will fall far short of it.”