“His idea is that I should enter your employment as a kind of forewoman in your fabrique.”
“But that is famous!” exclaimed Bigourdin, with a sparkle in his eyes. “It could only enter into that wise head yonder. The trade is getting beyond Félise and myself. Sooner or later I must get some one, a woman, to take charge of the manufacturing department. I have told Daniel my difficulties and he comes now with this magnificent solution. Car c’est vraiment magnifique.” He beamed all over his honest face.
“You would have to learn the business from the beginning,” said Fortinbras quickly. “That would be easy, as you would have willing instructors, and as you are not deficient in ordinary intelligence. You would rise every day in self-esteem and dignity and at last find yourself of use in the social organism.”
“You propose then,” said Corinna, restraining the annihilatory outburst owing to Bigourdin’s presence and shaking with suppressed wrath, “you propose then that I should spend the life that God has given me in making pâté de foie gras.”
“Better that than spend it in making bad pictures or a fool of yourself.”
“I’ve given up painting,” Corinna replied, “and every woman makes a fool of herself. Hence the perpetuation of the human species.”
“In your case, my dear Corinna,” said Fortinbras, “that would be commendable folly.”
“You are insulting,” she cried, her cheeks aflame.
“Tiens, tiens!” said Bigourdin, laying his great hand on his brother-in-law’s arm.
But Fortinbras stroked back his white mane and regarded them both with leonine serenity.