"That's a fact. What possible interest can the bankers take in such a matter?... My advice was absurd!"
Fandor rose. As he was seeing his visitor out, he said:
"In any case, dear madame, count on me to-morrow morning. I shall call at your house about eleven. If there is anything fresh, we can talk it over!..."
"Oh, here's Janson-de-Sailly College!... Oh, what detestable remembrances you conjure up!... But—this won't do!... Go it, my boy!... I must play the part!"
The plumber, who had just given utterance to these remarks, glanced sharply about him. When he had made sure that there was no one close on his heels, he stepped into the roadway, and started on a zigzag course which seemed likely to upset his balance. Crossing the avenue Henri-Martin, going straight, towards the town hall at the corner of the rue de la Pompe, the good plumber, who was staggering more than a little, began to stutter and stammer in a drunken voice:
"It is the final struggle!"
The passers-by looked round.
"They sing the Internationale in the streets now, it seems!" remarked a severe-looking gentleman.
The workman turned to this correct personage.