“That is enough, sir,” he declared in an indignant voice quivering with restrained anger, “that is enough! let us settle up our accounts; that done, we will break off all relations.”
But Moche was for slipping away: “Forgive me, dear sir, noble gentleman, honourable signor, if I trouble you to wait a few moments, but there is a lady in my office, a very important client; I must conclude my business with her. By your leave ...” Moche, with another low bow, awaited the reply. “Get done, and be quick about it!” was the rough answer.
The old brigand went back immediately to the office, where Nini was still waiting; she had never budged. Moche approached her with an air of triumph, calling softly:
“Come here, little girl!” and on her obeying, drew her to the window, setting her with her face to the full light. With his coarse, hairy hands the old usurer lifted the child’s touzled locks, parted them on her forehead and imprisoned the tangled curls in his palm. Nini let him do as he liked, puzzled and uncomprehending.
“D’you know,” declared the old man, “d’you know, with your hair down like a little girlie, you look ever so young.”
“But,” protested Nini, “I’m not old; I’m barely sixteen and a half.”
“I daresay,” resumed the other, “and when you don’t put on your naughty look and haven’t been drinking, you might verily be taken for a little saint. Now let’s see your hands.”
Again Nini did as she was bid, and Moche spreading out the fingers on his fore-arm, examined the nails. “Quite good, again,” he announced, “carefully enough kept for a poor man’s child, and not too well kept neither, to make them think it’s a ‘gay woman’s’ hand.”
Next moment, taking the girl by the shoulders, he gazed fixedly into her face with the air of one inspired.
“Nini,” he cried, “I have a brilliant idea, and if only you’re not too clumsy, we’re going, you and I, to do something mighty smart. Nini, next door there I’ve got a ripe pear, it’s up to you to pluck it; only, listen to me, I give you ten minutes to rig yourself out—not, mind you, like a street wench, but like an innocent little maid; leave your hair down, don’t wear a hat, put on your plainest frock, drop your eyes, look sweet and modest, and think of what you were a year ago, a good little virtuous girl, living with her mother and just done learning up her catechism. Presently, that is to say directly you’re ready, come and pay me a visit.... I’m good for the rest!”