Mme. Favoral spoke from experience. She had learned, to her cost,
that the whistle of her husband, more surely than the shriek of the
stormy petrel, announces the storm.--And she had that evening more
reasons than usual to fear. Breaking from all his habits, M. Favoral
had not come home to dinner, and had sent one of the clerks of the
Mutual Credit Society to say that they should not wait for him.
Soon his latch-key grated in the lock; the door swung open; he came
in; and, seeing his son:
“Well, I am glad to find you here,” he exclaimed with a giggle, which
with him was the utmost expression of anger.
Mme. Favoral shuddered. Still under the impression of the scene
which had just taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full of
tears, Maxence did not answer.
“It is doubtless a wager,” resumed the father, “and you wish to know
how far my patience may go.”
“I do not understand you,” stammered the young man.
“The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless fails
you now, or at least is no longer sufficient, and you go on making
debts right and left--at the tailor’s, the shirt maker’s, the
jeweler’s. Of course, it’s simple enough. We earn nothing; but
we wish to dress in the latest style, to wear a gold chain across
our vest, and then we make dupes.”
“I have never made any dupes, father.”
“Bah! And what, then, do you call all these people who came this
very day to present me their bills? For they did dare to come to
my office! They had agreed to come together, expecting thus to
intimidate me more easily. I told them that you were of age, and
that your business was none of mine. Hearing this, they became
insolent, and commenced speaking so loud, that their voices could
be heard in the adjoining rooms. At that very moment, the manager,
M. de Thaller, happened to be passing through the hall. Hearing
the noise of a discussion, he thought that I was having some
difficulty with some of our stockholders, and he came in, as he
had a right to. Then I was compelled to confess everything.”
He became excited at the sound of his words, like a horse at the
jingle of his bells. And, more and more beside himself:
“That is just what your creditors wished,” he pursued. “They
thought I would be afraid of a row, and that I would ‘come down.’
It is a system of blackmailing, like any other. An account is
opened to some young rascal; and, when the amount is reasonably
large, they take it to the family, saying, ‘Money, or I make row.’
Do you think it is to you, who are penniless, that they give credit?
It’s on my pocket that they were drawing,--on my pocket, because
they believed me rich. They sold you at exorbitant prices every
thing they wished; and they relied on me to pay for trousers at
ninety francs, shirts at forty francs, and watches at six hundred
francs.”
Contrary to his habit, Maxence did not offer any denial.
“I expect to pay all I owe,” he said.
“You!”
“I give my word I will!”
“And with what, pray?”
“With my salary.”
“You have a salary, then?”
Maxence blushed.
“I have what I earn at my employer’s.”
“What employer?”
“The architect in whose office M. Chapelain helped me to find a
place.”
With a threatening gesture, M. Favoral interrupted him.
“Spare me your lies,” he uttered. “I am better posted than you
suppose. I know, that, over a month ago, your employer, tired of
your idleness, dismissed you in disgrace.”
Disgrace was superfluous. The fact was, that Maxence, returning
to work after an absence of five days, had found another in his
place.
“I shall find another place,” he said.