At dessert, when the servant was no longer present, Morange, excited by
his good meal, became expansive. Glancing at his wife he winked towards
their guest, saying:
"Come, he's a safe friend; one may tell him everything."
And when Valerie had consented with a smile and a nod, he went on: "Well,
this is the matter, my dear fellow: it is possible that I may soon leave
the works. Oh! it's not decided, but I'm thinking of it. Yes, I've been
thinking of it for some months past; for, when all is said, to earn five
thousand francs a year, after eight years' zeal, and to think that one
will never earn much more, is enough to make one despair of life."
"It's monstrous," the young woman interrupted: "it is like breaking one's
head intentionally against a wall."
"Well, in such circumstances, my dear friend, the best course is to look
out for something elsewhere, is it not? Do you remember Michaud, whom I
had under my orders at the works some six years ago? A very intelligent
fellow he was. Well, scarcely six years have elapsed since he left us to
go to the Credit National, and what do you think he is now earning there?
Twelve thousand francs--you hear me--twelve thousand francs!"
The last words rang out like a trumpet-call.
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