At all levels, bitter sayings, ironical jests, cold
contempt, hypocritical complaints, false quarrels, win as much success
as the low outbursts of this Madame Everard of Issoudun.
Max began to relate, with much humor, the tale of Fario and his
barrow, which made the old man laugh. Vedie and Kouski, who came to
listen, exploded in the kitchen, and as to Flore, she laughed
convulsively. After breakfast, while Jean-Jacques read the newspapers
(for they subscribed to the "Constitutionel" and the "Pandore"), Max
carried Flore to his own quarters.
"Are you quite sure he has not made any other will since the one in
which he left the property to you?"
"He hasn't anything to write with," she answered.
"He might have dictated it to some notary," said Max; "we must look
out for that. Therefore it is well to be cordial to the Bridaus, and
at the same time endeavor to turn those mortgages into money. The
notaries will be only too glad to make the transfers; it is grist to
their mill. The Funds are going up; we shall conquer Spain, and
deliver Ferdinand VII. and the Cortez, and then they will be above
par. You and I could make a good thing out of it by putting the old
fellow's seven hundred and fifty thousand francs into the Funds at
eighty-nine. Only you must try to get it done in your name; it will be
so much secured anyhow."
"A capital idea!" said Flore.
"And as there will be an income of fifty thousand francs from eight
hundred and ninety thousand, we must make him borrow one hundred and
forty thousand francs for two years, to be paid back in two
instalments.
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