"A hundred crowns! Mon Dieu! a mere trifle!" said Robineau with a smile of contempt.
"What’s that? a trifle! Do me the favor to give me a dozen trifles like that, and I’ll go up in a balloon to-morrow morning."
"Fifine, listen to me attentively."
"Wait till I sit down, for what you are going to tell me may produce a deep impression on me."
Fifine put her candle in a candle-stick, and seated herself in front of Robineau, who tried to assume an important air before he began.
"Mademoiselle, I——"
"What! mademoiselle? are you talking to me?"
"Certainly."
"And you call me mademoiselle!—Try first to be a little more decent than that! What a fool you make of yourself with your demoiselle!"
"Well, then, Fifine—I must tell you that you no longer see before you the young man whose salary of fifteen hundred francs composed his whole fortune; the hopes that I have mentioned to you more than once are realized. I knew that my uncle would end by enriching me. Dear Uncle Gratien! he is dead and has left me twenty-five thousand francs a year."