“That rascal Verlaque is making a fool of you,” Gavard would sometimes say.  “He’s coddling himself up finely now that you are doing the work and paying him an income.”

At last one day Florent replied: 

“Oh, we’ve arranged matters together.  I’m only to give him twenty-five francs a month in future.”

As a matter of fact, Florent had but little need of money.  The Quenus continued to provide him with board and lodging; and the few francs which he kept by him sufficed to pay for the refreshment he took in the evening at Monsieur Lebigre’s.  His life had gradually assumed all the regularity of clockwork.  He worked in his bedroom, continued to teach little Muche twice a week from eight to nine o’clock, devoted an evening to Lisa, to avoid offending her, and spent the rest of his spare time in the little “cabinet” with Gavard and his friends.

When he went to the Mehudins’ there was a touch of tutorial stiffness in his gentle demeanour.  He was pleased with the old house in the Rue Pirouette.  On the ground floor he passed through the faint odours pervading the premises of the purveyor of cooked vegetables.  Big pans of boiled spinach and sorrel stood cooling in the little backyard.  Then he ascended the winding staircase, greasy and dark, with worn and bulging steps which sloped in a disquieting manner.  The Mehudins occupied the whole of the second floor.  Even when they had attained to comfortable circumstances the old mother had always declined to move into fresh quarters, despite all the supplications of her daughters, who dreamt of living in a new house in a fine broad street.  But on this point the old woman was not to be moved; she had lived there, she said, and meant to die there.  She contented herself, moreover, with a dark little closet, leaving the largest rooms to Claire and La Normande.  The later, with the authority of the elder born, had taken possession of the room that overlooked the street; it was the best and largest of the suite.  Claire was so much annoyed at her sister’s action in the matter that she refused to occupy the adjoining room, whose window overlooked the yard, and obstinately insisted on sleeping on the other side of the landing, in a sort of garret, which she did not even have whitewashed.  However, she had her own key, and so was independent; directly anything happened to displease her she locked herself up in her own quarters.

As a rule, when Florent arrived the Mehudins were just finishing their dinner.  Muche sprang to his neck, and for a moment the young man remained seated with the lad chattering between his legs.  Then, when the oilcloth cover had been wiped, the lesson began on a corner of the table.  The beautiful Norman gave Florent a cordial welcome.  She generally began to knit or mend some linen, and would draw her chair up to the table and work by the light of the same lamp as the others; and she frequently put down her needle to listen to the lesson, which filled her