They all began to clap their hands, and it soon became
a regular ball, and from time to time Louise and Flora
ran upstairs quickly and had a few turns, while their
customers downstairs grew impatient, and then they
returned regretfully to the tap-room. At midnight
they were still dancing.
Madame Tellier let them amuse themselves while she
had long private talks in corners with Monsieur Vasse,
as if to settle the last details of something that
had already been settled.
At last, at one o’clock, the two married men,
Monsieur Tournevau and Monsieur Pinipesse, declared
that they were going home, and wanted to pay.
Nothing was charged for except the champagne, and that
cost only six francs a bottle, instead of ten, which
was the usual price, and when they expressed their
surprise at such generosity, Madame Tellier, who was
beaming, said to them:
“We don’t have a holiday every day.”
To Leon Chapron.
Marambot opened the letter which his servant Denis
gave him and smiled.
For twenty years Denis has been a servant in this
house. He was a short, stout, jovial man, who
was known throughout the countryside as a model servant.
He asked:
“Is monsieur pleased? Has monsieur received
good news?”
M. Marambot was not rich. He was an old village
druggist, a bachelor, who lived on an income acquired
with difficulty by selling drugs to the farmers.
He answered:
“Yes, my boy. Old man Malois is afraid
of the law-suit with which I am threatening him.
I shall get my money to-morrow. Five thousand
francs are not liable to harm the account of an old
bachelor.”
M. Marambot rubbed his hands with satisfaction.
He was a man of quiet temperament, more sad than gay,
incapable of any prolonged effort, careless in business.
He could undoubtedly have amassed a greater income
had he taken advantage of the deaths of colleagues
established in more important centers, by taking their
places and carrying on their business. But the
trouble of moving and the thought of all the preparations
had always stopped him. After thinking the matter
over for a few days, he would be satisfied to say:
“Bah! I’ll wait until the next time.
I’ll not lose anything by the delay. I
may even find something better.”
Denis, on the contrary, was always urging his master
to new enterprises. Of an energetic temperament,
he would continually repeat:
“Oh! If I had only had the capital to start
out with, I could have made a fortune! One thousand
francs would do me.”
M. Marambot would smile without answering and would
go out in his little garden, where, his hands behind
his back, he would walk about dreaming.
All day long, Denis sang the joyful refrains of the
folk-songs of the district. He even showed an
unusual activity, for he cleaned all the windows of
the house, energetically rubbing the glass, and singing
at the top of his voice.
