“Three francs, monsieur.”
“Three francs! Pardieu! that’s nothing at all; bouquets seem to be cheap in this quarter. I’ll take it. Here, my pretty flower girl, pay yourself.”
And he handed Violette a five-franc piece; whereupon little Astianax stood on tiptoe and cried:
“But I bargained for that bouquet before you did, monsieur, and I am going to buy it. You can’t purchase it, not you.”
The gentleman contented himself with a disdainful glance at the young man as he repeated:
“Here, my girl, pay yourself.”
At this point Jéricourt thought fit to take part in the discussion. He stepped between Astianax and the stranger, and, assuming a self-sufficient tone, remarked to the latter:
“I was the first one who negotiated for that bouquet; so the flower girl has no right to sell it to anybody else, as I am ready to pay the price she asked. Be kind enough to give it to me, monsieur;—do you understand?”
The elderly gentleman simply turned his eyeglass on Jéricourt, and holding his head a little sidewise, said with an ironical smile:
“When I was your age, monsieur, I never allowed anything that I had in hand to be taken from me, and I have clung to that habit as I grew older;—do you understand?”