“Pooh!” answered a young manufacturer, “doesn’t M. de St. Giraud belong to the congregation? Haven’t his four children got scholarships? poor man! The community of Verrières must give him five hundred francs over and above his salary, that is all.”
“And to say that the mayor was not able to stop it,” remarked a third. “For he’s an ultra he is, I’m glad to say, but he doesn’t steal.”
“Doesn’t he?” answered another. “Suppose it’s simply a mere game of ‘snap’[1] then. Everything goes into a big common purse, and everything is divided up at the end of the year. But here’s that little Sorel, let’s go away.”
Julien got home in a very bad temper. He found Madame de Rênal very sad.
“You come from the auction?” she said to him.
“Yes, madam, where I had the honour of passing for a spy of M. the Mayor.”
“If he had taken my advice, he would have gone on a journey.”
At this moment Monsieur de Rênal appeared: he looked very dismal. The dinner passed without a single word. Monsieur de Rênal ordered Julien to follow the children to Vergy.
Madame de Rênal endeavoured to console her husband.
“You ought to be used to it, my dear.”