Flaubert bit his lip, and forced an unnatural laugh.
“No, no!” he said. “Of course not, that is why we must be so careful of her interests. By the by, if you so much dislike tackling the great Pauline, you can after all leave her to me. If she does dispute the account I’ll try to make time for her; she is always disputing something. No! send it by post; after all that is the best way.”
Jean was immensely relieved. After all Flaubert was very easy to work with; he was always good-natured, and he never took offence at any of Jean’s protests. Jean decided that he would try not to protest so much, and he sent the account to Pauline. It seemed even to him, accustomed to the enormous expenses of Torialli’s lessons, an immense account. He congratulated himself on not having to face Pauline with it. Unfortunately his congratulations came a little too soon. The very next day Pauline called, not at the hotel of the Toriallis, but at Louis Flaubert’s house.
She was shown at once into the room where Jean was going through the morning’s correspondence. He was used by now to the sight of angry women, but he had never before seen one so fixedly, fiercely angry as Pauline Vanderpool.
“Where’s your master?” she asked Jean with no formal preface.
“I don’t think I know quite whom you mean, Mademoiselle,” said Jean very quietly.
“I guess you know well enough, Jean D’Ucelles, and you’ll soon know some more. I tell you those—Send for that man, Flaubert. No! Don’t you stir—I’ll not have you two conspiring behind my back. I’ll see you both together and now. Do you catch on? The daughter of Silas P. Vanderpool isn’t going to be swindled by a pack of low-bred Parisian money-grabbers, not by a long way!”
“Mademoiselle, I do not think you will gain anything by being abusive,” said Jean. “You have very great advantages as a woman. It would perhaps be better manners as well as better policy on your part not to abuse them!”
“Why, you puppy!” gasped Pauline. “Do you dare to stand there and try to teach me manners, when I know you haven’t got a brass cent unless you have stolen it?”
“Be content, Mademoiselle, for apparently I have not succeeded,” said Jean grimly. “Ah! Here is Monsieur Flaubert! Have the kindness to make your complaint to him.”