Pitolet put in again: "That has not prevented you from becoming the
father of three or four children, I am told."
The poor old man, growing very red, stammered: "You are trying to
wound me. Monsieur Pitolet; but you will not succeed. My wife has had,
in fact, three children. I have reason to believe that the first born is
mine, but I deny the two others."
Pitolet continued: "Everybody says, in truth, that the first one is
yours. That is sufficient. It is very gratifying to have a child, very
gratifying and very delightful. I wager Lesable there would be enchanted
to have one--only one, like you."
Cachelin had stopped writing. He did not laugh, although old Savon was
his butt ordinarily, and he had poured out his stock of cruel jokes on the
subject of the old clerk's conjugal sorrows.
Lesable had collected his papers; but feeling himself attacked he
wished to remain, held back by pride, confused and irritated, and wishing
to know who had betrayed his secret.
Then the recollection of the confidence he had made to his chief came
back to him, and he at once understood it was necessary to express his
indignation if he did not wish to become the butt of the whole Ministry.
Boissel marched up and down the room, all the time tittering. He
imitated the hoarse voices of the street criers, and bellowed: "The secret
of begetting children, for ten centimes--two sous! Buy the secret of
begetting children--revealed by Monsieur Savon, with many horrible
details." Everybody began to laugh except Lesable and his father-in-law,
and Pitolet, turning toward the order-clerk, said: "What is the matter
with you, Cachelin? You seem to have lost your habitual gaiety. One would
think that you do not find it amusing to believe that old Savon could have
had a child by his wife. I think it very funny. Everybody cannot do as
much."
Lesable pretended to be deeply absorbed in his papers and to hear
nothing of what was going on about him, but he was as white as a ghost.
Boissel took up the strain in the same mocking voice: "The utility of
heirs for getting an inheritance, ten centimes, two sous; who will buy?"
Then Maze, who thought this was very poor sort of wit, and who
personally was enraged at Lesable having robbed him of the hope of a
fortune which he had secretly cherished, said pointedly: "What is the
matter with you, Lesable? You are very pale."
Lesable raised his head and looked his colleague full in the face. He
hesitated a second, while his lip trembled as he tried to formulate a
bitter reply, but, unable to find the phrase he sought, he responded:
"There is nothing the matter with me. I am only astonished that you
display so much delicacy."
Maze, who stood with his back to the fire and his hands under his
coat-tails, replied, laughing: "One does the best one can, old man. We
are like you, we do not always succeed--"
An explosion of laughter interrupted his words. Old Savon, who now
vaguely comprehended that the clerks no longer addressed their railleries
to him, looked around with his mouth gaping and his pen suspended in the
air. And Cachelin waited, ready to come to blows with the first person who
came in his way.