Marcel saluted his uncle with more familiarity than deference. He knew that flattery would be a waste of time; that the ex-armorer could be brought to terms on any subject only by a contest in obstinacy, in harsh language at need. He knew that his first impulse would be to say no; that no perhaps would be his last word; but that, in order to obtain one poor _yes_ among a hundred _noes_ he must fight without losing heart for a moment. Marcel was of a stout temper--it was a family trait--and he was so accustomed to fighting, especially against his uncle, that he derived a sort of painful pleasure from that occupation, which would have disgusted an artist in an instant. "I have brought you something to sign," he began. "I will not sign anything; my word is good enough." "True, with those who know you." "Everybody knows me." "Almost everybody; but I am dealing with idiots. Come, sign, sign!" "No, you might just as well sign it. My word's as good as gold; all the worse for the man who doubts it." "Then you will see the creditor take possession of the house at Sèvres. He will be satisfied then, no doubt, but until then he will doubt my authority." "So you have a bad reputation, have you?" "Apparently." "The idea of your saying that!" "What do you want me to say? If I should say no, you would not sign, and I want to induce you to sign." "Oh! you do! Why, I should like to know?" "Because it bores me, tires me and annoys me to return to Sèvres and wait for them to make up their minds to come to see you, when the despatch of this paper by my clerk will remove all difficulties and save me expense and many steps. Do you understand?" "You do whatever you please with me," replied the armorer, taking his pen. He dipped it in the ink three times before deciding, read and reread the document whereby he guaranteed the payment of the last six thousand francs of his brother's debts, looked Marcel in the eye to see if he was anxious or impatient, and, seeing that he was unmoved, regretfully renounced the pleasure of driving him into a passion. He signed the paper and tossed it in his face, with a wicked laugh, saying: "Off with you, rascal! You never come to my house unless you want to get something out of me. You might have guaranteed the debts in my place, for you're rich enough!" "If I were, be sure that it would be done already; but I am making the final payments for my practice, and I cannot deceive Julien any longer as to the sacrifices I am making for him. He is deeply concerned; his mother is in despair----" "Oh! his mother, his mother!" sneered the rich man in a tone of profound aversion. "You are not fond of her, as everyone knows; so she will never ask you for anything, never fear; but I am fond of my aunt, if you have no objection, and Julien adores her. Between them--between us three, if necessary--we will have everything paid within two years, and I flatter myself that you will not have to spend a sou."