"Oh!" she added thoughtfully, but not looking at him. "That is no reason why you should leave." "Yes," he said. "This place is beyond my means. I do not need to tell you that in ceasing to appear the paper has omitted to pay its debts. The house owes me a month's salary. So I must leave." "No!" said Sophia. "You can pay me when you have money." He shook his head. "I have no intention of accepting your kindness." "Haven't you got any money?" she abruptly asked. "None," said he. "It is the disaster--quite simply!" "Then you will be forced to get into debt somewhere." "Yes, but not here! Not to you!" "Truly, Chirac," she exclaimed, with a cajoling voice, "you are not reasonable." "Nevertheless it is like that!" he said with decision. "Eh, well!" she turned on him menacingly. "It will not be like that! You understand me? You will stay. And you will pay me when you can. Otherwise we shall quarrel. Do you imagine I shall tolerate your childishness? Just because you were angry last night----" "It is not that," he protested. "You ought to know it is not that." (She did.) "It is solely that I cannot permit myself to----" "Enough!" she cried peremptorily, stopping him. And then in a quieter tone, "And what about Carlier? Is he also in the ditch?" "Ah! he has money," said Chirac, with sad envy. "You also, one day," said she. "You stop--in any case until after Christmas, or we quarrel. Is it agreed?" Her accent had softened. "You are too good!" he yielded. "I cannot quarrel with you. But it pains me to accept--" "Oh!" she snapped, dropping into the vulgar idiom, "you make me sweat with your stupid pride. Is it that that you call friendship? Go away now. How do you wish that I should succeed with this cake while you station yourself there to distract me?" IV But in three days' Chirac, with amazing luck, fell into another situation, and on the Journal des Debats. It was the Prussians who had found him a place. The celebrated Payenneville, second greatest chroniqueur of his time, had caught a cold while doing his duty as a national guard, and had died of pneumonia. The weather was severe again; soldiers were being frozen to death at Aubervilliers. Payenneville's position was taken by another man, whose post was offered to Chirac. He told Sophia of his good fortune with unconcealed vanity. "You with your smile!" she said impatiently. "One can refuse you nothing!"