“Five hundred! Come, messieurs, who bids more?”
“Who bids less, you mean!” cried Monsieur Luminot, laughing heartily. “Ha! ha! that’s a great joke, that upset price! I’ll give three hundred francs for the house—on condition that it’s torn down at once!”
“And I,” said Paul, in a loud voice, “I will give two thousand francs—on condition that when the creditor and the costs are paid, whatever remains shall be immediately turned over to this poor family.”
A fairy’s wand could not have produced a more magical effect than was produced by the words of the owner of the Tower.
“Two thousand francs!”
“Two thousand francs!”
The words were echoed on all sides.
Agathe and Honorine alone did not seem surprised by the action of Ami’s master; but, on the other hand, it was plain that they were made very happy by it, and that they shared to the full the joy which the farmer and his family manifested.
Paul walked to the desk and threw upon it two thousand-franc notes, to which Monsieur Jarnouillard made a reverence that nearly caused him to lose his wig altogether.
“To whom have we the honor of selling this house?” inquired the auctioneer; “will you kindly give us your name?”