To-day Flaubert had reached his second cup of chocolate before Jean’s knock sounded at the door.
He did not at once notice anything unusual in Jean’s appearance except that he carried a new and rather formidable walking-stick.
“That memento d’un Apâche, my dear fellow, you might have left in the hall,” Flaubert observed “Think of my china!”
“I will try to bear it in mind,” said Jean briefly.
Flaubert took a mouthful of egg without salt and made a face. There was something discomposing in the voice of Jean D’Ucelles; it sounded like that of a man who is standing on the edge of his patience.
“In the first place,” said Jean, approaching the table, “I should be obliged if you would give me a receipt for this,” and he laid in front of Monsieur Flaubert Margot’s bill, with the notes for four hundred francs. “I come on the part of Mademoiselle Selba,” Jean finished in the same dry manner.
“Business now, Jean!” cried Flaubert, playfully lifting a reproving forefinger. “You know my habits! You don’t want to make a dose of my morning chocolate. All this affair of the little Selba, see, let us go into it later! You settle her little bills for her do you, then, hein? Shocking, shocking! And I who thought you so fresh from the country!”
“I would like the receipt now, Monsieur,” said Jean; his nostrils twitched, and as he moved nearer Flaubert his hand opened and closed about the handle of his walking-stick.
Flaubert looked furtively at the bell; it was at some little distance from the table. He pushed away his unfinished egg and signed the paper.
“Thank you,” said Jean, putting the receipt in his pocket. “And now, Monsieur Flaubert, it is my regrettable duty to show you why I have not left my stick in the hall—if you wish to defend yourself I will give you time to reach the poker—but I am afraid I must stand between you and the bell. I will do my best to avoid the china.”