“That is not my opinion,” said she. “When I give, it seems to me that I make restitution.”
“She is somewhat of a socialist,” cried M. Moriaz. “I perceive it every January in making out her accounts, and it is fortunate that she intrusts this to me, for she never takes the trouble to look at the memorandum her banker sends her.”
“I am proud for Poland that Mlle. Moriaz has a Polish failing,” said Abel Larinski, gallantly.
“Is it a failing?” queried Antoinette.
“Arithmetic is the most beautiful of the sciences and the mother of certainty,” said M. Moriaz. And turning towards the count, he added: “She is very wrong-headed, this girl of mine; she holds absolutely revolutionary principles, dangerous to public order and the preservation of society. Why, she maintains that people who are in need have a right to the superfluities of others!”
“This appears to me self-evident,” said she.
“And, for example,” further continued M. Moriaz, “she has among her proteges a certain Mlle. Galard—”
“Galet,” said Mlle. Moiseney, bridling up, for she had been impatiently awaiting an opportunity to put in a word.
“This Mlle. Leontine Galet, who lives at No. 25 Rue Mouffetard—”
“No. 27,” again interposed Mlle. Moiseney, in a magisterial tone.