“Possibly, but you, my worthy clerk, were trying to get ten thousand away from me.” “No, no; I was positively ordered to buy up your claim; and you ought to remember that my offer had risen to twenty thousand when Theodose came in.” “Well,” said Dutocq, “when we leave here we’ll go to your house, where you will give me those notes; for, you’ll understand that to-morrow morning, at the earliest decent hour, I shall go to la Peyrade’s office; I don’t mean to let his paying humor cool.” “And right you are; for I can tell you now that before long there’ll be a fine upset in his life.” “Then the thing is really serious--this tale of a crazy woman you want him to marry? I must say that in his place, with these money-matters evidently on the rise, I should have backed out of your proposals just as he did. Ninas and Ophelias are all very well on the stage, but in a home--” “In a home, when they bring a ‘dot,’ we can be their guardian,” replied Cerizet, sententiously. “In point of fact, we get a fortune and not a wife.” “Well,” said Dutocq, “that’s one way to look at it.” “If you are willing,” said Cerizet, “let us go and take our coffee somewhere else. This dinner has turned out so foolishly that I want to get out of this room, where there’s no air.” He rang for the waiter. “Garcon!” he said, “the bill.” “Monsieur, it is paid.” “Paid! by whom?” “By the gentleman who just went out.” “But this is outrageous,” cried Cerizet. “I ordered the dinner, and you allow some one else to pay for it!” “It wasn’t I, monsieur,” said the waiter; “the gentleman went and paid the ‘dame du comptoir’; she must have thought it was arranged between you. Besides, it is not so uncommon for gentlemen to have friendly disputes about paying.” “That’s enough,” said Cerizet, dismissing the waiter. “Won’t these gentlemen take their coffee?--it is paid for,” said the man before he left the room. “A good reason for not taking it,” replied Cerizet, angrily. “It is really inconceivable that in a house of this kind such an egregious blunder should be committed. What do you think of such insolence?” he added, when the waiter had left the room. “Bah!” exclaimed Dutocq, taking his hat, “it is a schoolboy proceeding; he wanted to show he had money; it is easy to see he never had any before.” “No, no! that’s not it,” said Cerizet; “he meant to mark the rupture. ‘I will not owe you even a dinner,’ is what he says to me.” “But, after all,” said Dutocq, “this banquet was given to celebrate your enthronement as principal tenant of the grand house. Well, he has failed to get you the lease, and I can understand that his conscience was uneasy at letting you pay for a dinner which, like those notes of mine, were an ‘obligation without cause.’”