"Well, let us have peace, and talk," said François. This threat of the Crab as to the officers of the law might not be vain; she was quite too well informed; and there was Pierre, white and furious. François foresaw tragedy; comedy was more to his taste.
"What wilt thou have, Quatre Pattes? We are poor. Why threaten thy old lodger?" He was eager to get her away, in order to understand matters. Too much was dark. Pierre said no more, but stood staring, angry and yet afraid.
"A louis a week," cried the Crab.
"Nonsense! These good geese would soon die of starvation, and then no more golden eggs. Here are ten francs. Each week thou shalt have five."
"Nom de Dieu!" groaned Pierre; "and to kill her were so easy!"
"Not for thee, coward!" shouted the Crab, knocking her sticks together for emphasis.
"Kill her!" said Pierre, faintly.
"Nonsense!" said François. "Come to the booth for it, Crab; not here, mind you, not here—not a sou here."
"Adieu, my jolly bankers," cried the hag. "For the day this will do; then we shall see." With this, the sticks rattled on the tiled floor, and she pattered out of the door, which François shut after her.
"Behold us, netted like larks!" he said, and broke into a laugh.