"But is the poor pig never allowed to have any of them?" she enquired. "One would think he would soon get disheartened at this treatment, and refuse to dig any more. I know I should if I were a pig." "That you certainly never will be," he answered gallantly. "But I assure you, madame, that piggy is allowed to have all the broken and spoilt tubers as his reward as soon as the task is finished." "Well, I am very glad for piggy's sake that it is so," interposed Céleste. "It would be very unfair to let him be good for nothing," and she suddenly laughed at the little joke which she had unconsciously uttered. "Have you been to see 'Les Fiançailles Forcées' which has just been put on at the Vaudeville?" said Riche to Payot. "No, I confess I have not. What is the plot?" "Oh, it is quite an amusing play. There is a man named Boucher who has a son, and another fellow named Vauban who possesses a charming daughter. Well, Boucher promises to give Vauban a very valuable railway concession if the latter will persuade his daughter to marry the other fellow's son. Of course the daughter is secretly in love with another chap, and when Vauban tries to persuade his daughter to marry young Boucher, there is a tremendous row. Oh, I forgot to add that Vauban is very wealthy, and of course his money is the chief attraction in Boucher's eyes, and the way these two old boys haggle over the amount of coin that is to change hands when the marriage comes off is a caution, I can tell you." "Stop, father. Father, what are you doing? Oh, Henri, stop him," cried Renée. But Payot, blind to all reason and remonstrance, rushed again at the young man. Payot's eyes flashed at the speaker with an angry look, as he poured out a large glass of champagne cup and drank it off with a shaky hand at a gulp. "How stupid these plays are becoming," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment and fear lest the doctor should read what was passing through his mind. "I wonder how people can listen to such nonsense. Such plots can only happen in the morbid imagination of the playwright." Payot was visibly working himself up into a terrible state of excitement, and in order to steady his nerves tossed off one glass of wine after another. "I cannot altogether agree with you, sir," said Marcel. "I went to the play on the first night, and I thought it 'ripping.' The whole plot was so well carried out and so natural that I felt it must have been copied from real life." Payot frowned at the speaker for daring to differ from him, while Céleste and Riche simultaneously looked at each other and smiled significantly. The financier caught the glance and began working himself into a rage. At first he tried to turn the conversation, and muttered something incoherently, much to the amusement of Marcel who was watching him.