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Updated: May 10, 2025
It would be very strange if I did not do so." "This idea occurred to you so suddenly!" Madame Ferailleur gave an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, as if she were astonished to have to answer such puerile objections. "Have you already forgotten the disparaging remarks made by our new servant, Madame Vantrasson?" "Good Heavens!"
He had certainly retained his composure admirably during the interview, but more than once he had fancied that Vantrasson was about to spring on him, crush him with his brawny hands, tear the note from him, burn it, and then throw him, Fortunat, out into the street, helpless and nearly dead.
M. Fortunat did not reply at once; but he drew the note with which he had provided himself from his pocket, and displayed it. "I am a huissier's clerk," he then exclaimed; "and I called in reference to this little matter a note of hand for five hundred and eighty-three francs, value received in goods, signed Vantrasson, and made payable to the order of a person named Barutin."
It was evident that this frightful creature, even if she knew nothing definite, had some idea, some vague suspicion of the truth. How could he compel her to speak now that she was on her guard? He had not time to ascertain, for the door suddenly opened, and Vantrasson appeared on the threshold.
"Wait just a moment longer, monsieur," she pleaded; "my husband will soon be back, and the last omnibus doesn't leave the Rue de Levis until midnight." "I wouldn't refuse, but this part of the suburbs is so lonely." "Vantrasson will see you on your way." And, resolved to detain him at any cost, she poured out a fresh glass of liquor for him, and said: "Where were we? Oh, yes!
Having been employed by M. de Chalusse when the latter was seeking Mademoiselle Marguerite, M. Fortunat had gained some valuable information respecting his client, and the additional particulars which he had obtained from Madame Vantrasson elated him to such an extent that more than once he exclaimed: "Ah, well! it is, perhaps, a blessing in disguise, after all."
Chupin instinctively recoiled, convinced that he had betrayed himself by some blunder, but unable to discover in what he had erred. "I did do something in that line formerly," he faltered. Vantrasson doubted no longer. "So you confess that you are a vile scoundrel!" he exclaimed.
Now he was ready to reproach himself for his lack of courage and his weakness in displaying his feelings. And as a test of his powers of endurance, he decided not to question Madame Vantrasson till four or five days had elapsed. If her suspicions had been aroused, this delay would suffice to dispel them. He said but little during breakfast; for he was now eager to commence the struggle.
But Madame Vantrasson was not the woman to be easily discouraged, especially as she knew that if she failed to obtain this situation, she might have considerable difficulty in finding another one. She could only hope to obtain employment from strangers and newcomers, who were ignorant of the reputation of the model lodging-house.
The thought that so vile a rascal as this man Vantrasson should have dared to insult Marguerite made Pascal frantic with indignation. "The wretch!" he exclaimed; "the wretch!" But without seeming to notice her son's anger, Madame Ferailleur continued: "They pretended they had not seen their former apprentice since she had been living in grandeur, as they expressed it. But in this they lied to me.
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