From this moment they thought it expedient to exchange some phrases
when they met. Then, in the interchange of courtesies, there were little
attentions they paid each other from which arose in a short time certain
familiarities, then an intimacy tempered with reserve and restrained by a
certain hesitation; then on the strength of their increasing goodwill and
visits made to the room of each other, a comradeship was established. They
often gossiped together now of the news that found its way into the
bureau. Lesable laid aside his air of superiority, and Maze no longer
paraded his social successes. Cachelin often joined in the conversation
and watched with interest their growing friendship. Sometimes as the
handsome Maze left the apartment with head erect and square shoulders, he
turned to his son-in-law and hissed: "There goes a fine man!" One morning
when they were all four together, for old Savon never left his copying,
the chair of the old clerk, having been tampered with no doubt by some
practical joker, collapsed under him, and the good man rolled on the floor
uttering cries of affright. The three others flew to his assistance. The
order-clerk attributed this machination to the communists, and Maze
earnestly desired to see the wounded part. Cachelin and he even essayed
to take off the poor old fellow's clothes to dress the injury, they said,
but he resisted desperately, crying that he was not hurt.
When the fun was over, Cachelin suddenly exclaimed: "I say, M. Maze,
now that we are all together, can you not do us the honour of dining with
us next Sunday? It will give pleasure to all three of us, myself, my
son-in-law, and my daughter, who has often heard your name when we speak
of the office. Shall it be yes?"
Lesable added his entreaty, but more coldly than his father-in-law:
"Pray come," he said; "it will give us great pleasure."
Maze hesitated, embarrassed and smiling at the remembrance of past
events.