"You are joking, father Pantois," replied Monsieur, with superb assurance; "certainly; I will pay you that directly. I proposed that only for the purpose of making a little trip and paying you a little visit." He fumbled in the pockets of his pantaloons, then in those of his vest and waistcoat, and, assuming an air of surprise, he cried: "Well, there! here I am again without change! I have nothing but confounded thousand-franc bills." With a forced and really sinister laugh, he asked: "I will bet that you have not change for a thousand francs, father Pantois?" Seeing Monsieur laugh, father Pantois thought that it was proper for him to laugh too, and he answered, jovially: "Ha! ha! ha! I have never even seen these confounded bills." "Well, on Sunday then," concluded Monsieur. Monsieur had poured out a glass of cider for himself, and was drinking with father Pantois, when Madame, whom they had not heard coming, suddenly entered the kitchen, like a gust of wind. Ah! her eye, when she saw that! when she saw Monsieur sitting at table beside the poor old man, and drinking with him! "What's this?" she exclaimed, her lips all white. Monsieur stammered, and hemmed and hawed. "It is some sweet-briers; you know very well, my pet; some sweet-briers. Father Pantois has brought me some sweet-briers. All the rose-bushes were frozen this winter." "I have ordered no sweet-briers. We need no sweet-briers here." This was said in a cutting tone. Then she made a half-circuit of the room, and went out, slamming the door and showering insults. In her anger she had not noticed me. Monsieur and the poor old puller of sweet-briers had risen. Embarrassed, they looked at the door through which Madame had just disappeared. Then they looked at each other, without daring to say a word. Monsieur was the first to break this painful silence. "Well, then, on Sunday, father Pantois." "On Sunday, Monsieur Lanlaire." "And take good care of yourself, father Pantois." "You also, Monsieur Lanlaire." "And thirty francs, mind you. I do not take back what I said." "You are very good." And the old man, trembling on his legs, and with back bent, went away, and disappeared in the darkness. Poor Monsieur! he must have received his lecture! And, as for father Pantois, if ever he gets his thirty francs,--well, he will be lucky. I do not wish to justify Madame, but I think that Monsieur is wrong in talking familiarly with people that are too far beneath him. It is not dignified. I know very well that he doesn't lead a gay life, to be sure, and that he takes such opportunities as offer. That is not always convenient. When he comes back late from a hunt, dirty and wet, and singing to keep up his courage, Madame gives him a warm reception. "Ah! it is very nice of you to leave me alone all day!" "But you know very well, my pet...." "Be still."