Mme. Cibot’s head was swimming; she wheeled round.  In a moment came the thought that she would have a legacy, she would sleep sound on old Pons’ will, like the other servant-mistresses whose annuities had aroused such envy in the Marais.  Her thoughts flew to some commune in the neighborhood of Paris; she saw herself strutting proudly about her house in the country, looking after her garden and poultry yard, ending her days, served like a queen, along with her poor dear Cibot, who deserved such good fortune, like all angelic creatures whom nobody knows nor appreciates.

Her abrupt, unthinking movement told Remonencq that success was sure.  In the chineur’s way of business—­the chineur, be it explained, goes about the country picking up bargains at the expense of the ignorant—­in the chineur’s way of business, the one real difficulty is the problem of gaining an entrance to a house.  No one can imagine the Scapin’s roguery, the tricks of a Sganarelle, the wiles of a Dorine by which the chineur contrives to make a footing for himself.  These comedies are as good as a play, and founded indeed on the old stock theme of the dishonesty of servants.  For thirty francs in money or goods, servants, and especially country servants, will sometimes conclude a bargain on which the chineur makes a profit of a thousand or two thousand francs.  If we could but know the history of such and such a service of Sevres porcelain, pate tendre, we should find that all the intellect, all the diplomatic subtlety displayed at Munster, Nimeguen, Utrecht, Ryswick, and Vienna was surpassed by the chineur.  His is the more frank comedy; his methods of action fathom depths of personal interest quite as profound as any that plenipotentiaries can explore in their difficult search for any means of breaking up the best cemented alliances.

“I have set La Cibot nicely on fire,” Remonencq told his sister, when she came to take up her position again on the ramshackle chair.  “And now,” he continued, “I shall go to consult the only man that knows, our Jew, a good sort of Jew that did not ask more than fifteen per cent of us for his money.”

Remonencq had read La Cibot’s heart.  To will is to act with women of her stamp.  Let them see the end in view; they will stick at nothing to gain it, and pass from scrupulous honesty to the last degree of scoundrelism in the twinkling of an eye.  Honesty, like most dispositions of mind, is divided into two classes—­negative and positive.  La Cibot’s honesty was of the negative order; she and her like are honest until they see their way clear to gain money belonging to somebody else.  Positive honesty, the honesty of the bank collector, can wade knee-deep through temptations.