“I would not do it for my life! It is eighteen francs lost, that is all.
It will not ruin us.”
The next morning he took a walking-stick when he went out, and, luckily,
it was a fine day.
Left at home alone, Mme. Oreille could not get over the loss of
her eighteen francs by any means. She had put the umbrella on the
dining-room table, and she looked at it without being able to come to
any determination.
Every moment she thought of the assurance company, but she did not dare
to encounter the quizzical looks of the gentlemen who might receive her,
for she was very timid before people, and blushed at a mere nothing, and
was embarrassed when she had to speak to strangers.
But the regret at the loss of the eighteen francs pained her as if she
had been wounded. She tried not to think of it any more, and yet every
moment the recollection of the loss struck her painfully. What was she
to do, however? Time went on, and she could not decide; but suddenly,
like all cowards, on making a resolve, she became determined.
“I will go, and we will see what will happen.”
But first of all she was obliged to prepare the umbrella so that the
disaster might be complete, and the reason of it quite evident. She took
a match from the mantelpiece, and between the ribs she burned a hole as
big as the palm of her hand; then she delicately rolled it up, fastened
it with the elastic band, put on her bonnet and shawl, and went quickly
toward the Rue de Rivoli, where the assurance office was.
But the nearer she got, the slower she walked. What was she going to
say, and what reply would she get?
She looked at the numbers of the houses; there were still twenty-eight.
That was all right, so she had time to consider, and she walked slower
and slower. Suddenly she saw a door on which was a large brass plate
with “La Maternelle Fire Assurance Office” engraved on it. Already!
She waited a moment, for she felt nervous and almost ashamed; then she
walked past, came back, walked past again, and came back again.
At last she said to herself:
“I must go in, however, so I may as well do it sooner as later.”
She could not help noticing, however, how her heart beat as she entered.
She went into an enormous room with grated doors all round it, and above
them little openings at which a man's head appeared, and as a gentleman
carrying a number of papers passed her, she stopped him and said
timidly: “I beg your pardon, monsieur, but can you tell me where I must
apply for payment for anything that has been accidentally burned?”
He replied in a sonorous voice:
“The first door on the left; that is the department you want.”
This frightened her still more, and she felt inclined to run away, to
put in no claim, to sacrifice her eighteen francs. But the idea of that
sum revived her courage, and she went upstairs, out of breath, stopping
at almost every other step.
She knocked at a door which she saw on the first landing, and a clear
voice said, in answer:
“Come in!”
She obeyed mechanically, and found herself in a large room where three
solemn gentlemen, all with a decoration in their buttonholes, were
standing talking.
One of them asked her: “What do you want, madame?”
She could hardly get out her words, but stammered: “I have come--I have
come on account of an accident, something--“.
He very politely pointed out a seat to her,
“If you will kindly sit down I will attend to you in a moment.”
And, returning to the other two, he went on with the conversation.
“The company, gentlemen, does not consider that it is under any
obligation to you for more than four hundred thousand francs, and we can
pay no attention to your claim to the further sum of a hundred thousand,
which you wish to make us pay. Besides that, the surveyor's valuation--”
One of the others interrupted him:
“That is quite enough, monsieur; the law courts will decide between us,
and we have nothing further to do than to take our leave.” And they went
out after mutual ceremonious bows.
Oh! if she could only have gone away with them, how gladly she would
have done it; she would have run away and given up everything. But it
was too late, for the gentleman came back, and said, bowing:
“What can I do for you, madame?”
She could scarcely speak, but at last she managed to say:
“I have come-for this.”
The manager looked at the object which she held out to him in mute
astonishment.
With trembling fingers she tried to undo the elastic, and succeeding,
after several attempts, she hastily opened the damaged remains of the
umbrella.
“It looks to me to be in a very bad state of health,” he said
compassionately.
“It cost me twenty francs,” she said, with some hesitation.
He seemed astonished. “Really! As much as that?”
“Yes, it was a capital article, and I wanted you to see the condition it
is in.”
“Yes, yes, I see; very well. But I really do not understand what it can
have to do with me.”
She began to feel uncomfortable; perhaps this company did not pay for
such small articles, and she said:
“But--it is burned.”
He could not deny it.
“I see that very well,” he replied.
She remained open-mouthed, not knowing what to say next; then, suddenly
recollecting that she had left out the main thing, she said hastily:
“I am Mme. Oreille; we are assured in La Maternelle, and I have come to
claim the value of this damage.”
“I only want you to have it re-covered,” she added quickly, fearing a
positive refusal.
The manager was rather embarrassed, and said: “But, really, madame, we
do not sell umbrellas; we cannot undertake such kinds of repairs.”
The little woman felt her courage reviving; she was not going to give up
without a struggle; she was not even afraid any more, and said:
“I only want you to pay me the cost of repairing it; I can quite well
get it done myself.”
The gentleman seemed rather confused.
“Really, madame, it is such a very small matter! We are never asked to
give compensation for such trivial losses. You must allow that we cannot
make good pocket-handkerchiefs, gloves, brooms, slippers, all the small
articles which are every day exposed to the chances of being burned.”
She got red in the face, and felt inclined to fly into a rage.
“But, monsieur, last December one of our chimneys caught fire, and
caused at least five hundred francs' damage; M. Oreille made no claim on
the company, and so it is only just that it should pay for my umbrella
now.”
The manager, guessing that she was telling a lie, said, with a smile:
“You must acknowledge, madame, that it is very surprising that M.
Oreille should have asked no compensation for damages amounting to five
hundred francs, and should now claim five or six francs for mending an
umbrella.”
She was not the least put out, and replied:
“I beg your pardon, monsieur, the five hundred francs affected M.
Oreille's pocket, whereas this damage, amounting to eighteen francs,
concerns Mme. Oreille's pocket only, which is a totally different
matter.”
As he saw that he had no chance of getting rid of her, and that he would
only be wasting his time, he said resignedly:
“Will you kindly tell me how the damage was done?”
She felt that she had won the victory, and said:
“This is how it happened, monsieur: In our hall there is a bronze stick
and umbrella stand, and the other day, when I came in, I put my umbrella
into it. I must tell you that just above there is a shelf for the
candlesticks and matches. I put out my hand, took three or four matches,
and struck one, but it missed fire, so I struck another, which ignited,
but went out immediately, and a third did the same.”
The manager interrupted her to make a joke.
“I suppose they were government matches, then?”
She did not understand him, and went on:
“Very likely. At any rate, the fourth caught fire, and I lit my candle,
and went into my room to go to bed; but in a quarter of an hour I
fancied that I smelt something burning, and I have always been terribly
afraid of fire. If ever we have an accident it will not be my fault, I
assure you. I am terribly nervous since our chimney was on fire, as I
told you; so I got up, and hunted about everywhere, sniffing like a dog
after game, and at last I noticed that my umbrella was burning. Most
likely a match had fallen between the folds and burned it. You can see
how it has damaged it.”
The manager had taken his cue, and asked her: “What do you estimate the
damage at?”
She did not know what to say, as she was not certain what value to put
on it, but at last she replied:
“Perhaps you had better get it done yourself. I will leave it to you.”
He, however, naturally refused.
“No, madame, I cannot do that. Tell me the amount of your claim, that is
all I want to know.”
“Well, I think that--Look here, monsieur, I do not want to make any
money out of you, so I will tell you what we will do. I will take my
umbrella to the maker, who will re-cover it in good, durable silk, and I
will bring the bill to you. Will that suit you, monsieur?”
“Perfectly, madame; we will settle it so. Here is a note for the
cashier, who will repay you whatever it costs you.”
He gave Mme. Oreille a slip of paper, who took it, got up and went out,
thanking him, for she was in a hurry to escape lest he should change his
mind.
She went briskly through the streets, looking out for a really good
umbrella maker, and when she found a shop which appeared to be a
first-class one, she went in, and said, confidently:
“I want this umbrella re-covered in silk, good silk. Use the very best
and strongest you have; I don't mind what it costs.”