interrupted harshly the manager of the Mutual Credit.
The cashier hesitated no longer. Taking up a candle from the table, he opened the door leading to the parlor, and, standing respectfully to one side:
“Be kind enough to pass on, sir,” said he: “I follow you.”
And, at the moment of disappearing himself,
“Continue to dine without me,” said he to his guests, with a last effort at self-control. “I shall soon catch up with you. This will take but a moment. Do not be uneasy in the least.”
They were not uneasy, but surprised, and, above all, shocked at the manners of M. de Thaller.
“What a brute!” muttered Mme. Desclavettes.
M. Desormeaux, the head clerk at the Department of Justice, was an old legitimist, much imbued with reactionary ideas.
“Such are our masters,” said he with a sneer, “the high barons of financial feudality. Ah! you are indignant at the arrogance of the old aristocracy; well, on your knees, by Jupiter! on your face, rather, before the golden crown on field of gules.”
No one replied: every one was trying his best to hear.
In the parlor, between M. Favoral and M. de Thaller, a discussion of the utmost violence was evidently going on. To seize the meaning of it was not possible; and yet through the door, the upper panels of which were of glass, fragments could be heard; and from time to time such words distinctly reached the ear as dividend, stockholders, deficit, millions, etc.
“What can it all mean? great heaven!” moaned Mme. Favoral.
Doubtless the two interlocutors, the director and the cashier, had drawn nearer to the door of communication; for their voices, which rose more and more, had now become quite distinct.
“It is an infamous trap!” M. Favoral was saying. “I should have been notified—”
“Come, come,” interrupted the other. “Were you not fully warned? did I ever conceal any thing from you?”
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