“It will be done in three days.  The summons will come down upon him while he is stupefied with grief, for the poor soul regrets Pons and is taking the death to heart.”

“Can the application be withdrawn?” inquired the lady.

“Certainly, madame.  You can withdraw it at any time.”

“Very well, monsieur, let it be so . . . go on!  Yes, the purchase of land that you have arranged for me is worth the trouble; and, besides, I have managed Vitel’s business—­he is to retire, and you must pay Vitel’s sixty thousand francs out of Pons’ property.  So, you see, you must succeed.”

“Have you Vitel’s resignation?”

“Yes, monsieur.  M. Vitel has put himself in M. de Marville’s hands.”

“Very good, madame.  I have already saved you sixty thousand francs which I expected to give to that vile creature Mme. Cibot.  But I still require the tobacconist’s license for the woman Sauvage, and an appointment to the vacant place of head-physician at the Quinze-Vingts for my friend Poulain.”

“Agreed—­it is all arranged.”

“Very well.  There is no more to be said.  Every one is for you in this business, even Gaudissart, the manager of the theatre.  I went to look him up yesterday, and he undertook to crush the workman who seemed likely to give us trouble.”

“Oh, I know M. Gaudissart is devoted to the Popinots.”

Fraisier went out.  Unluckily, he missed Gaudissart, and the fatal summons was served forthwith.

If all covetous minds will sympathize with the Presidente, all honest folk will turn in abhorrence from her joy when Gaudissart came twenty minutes later to report his conversation with poor Schmucke.  She gave her full approval; she was obliged beyond all expression for the thoughtful way in which the manager relieved her of any remaining scruples by observations which seemed to her to be very sensible and just.

“I thought as I came, Mme. la Presidente, that the poor devil would not know what to do with the money.  ’Tis a patriarchally simple nature.  He is a child, he is a German, he ought to be stuffed and put in a glass case like a waxen image.  Which is to say that, in my opinion, he is quite puzzled enough already with his income of two thousand five hundred francs, and here you are provoking him into extravagance—­”

“It is very generous of him to wish to enrich the poor fellow who regrets the loss of our cousin,” pronounced the Presidente.  “For my own part, I am sorry for the little squabble that estranged M. Pons and me.  If he had come back again, all would have been forgiven.  If you only knew how my husband misses him!  M. de Marville received no notice of the death, and was in despair; family claims are sacred for him, he would have gone to the service and the interment, and I myself would have been at the mass—­”