Part 58 (1/2)

A few days later, Cherami was, in fact, able to go out, and without a bandage; his eye had resumed its normal appearance. Our man had taken great pains with his toilet: his boots were polished, his hat and coat carefully brushed; he took his switch, entered the omnibus from Belleville, took an exchange check, and, in due time, arrived at the banker's establishment in Faubourg Montmartre.

On this occasion, Cherami did not stop to talk with the concierge; he went straight to the office and found the same clerk still at work on his figures. It is a fact that there are some clerks in banking-houses who pa.s.s almost the whole day at that work. When they go to sleep, it would seem that they must always see figures dancing and fluttering about them; what a pleasant life! and what delightful dreams!

Cherami stopped in front of the old clerk, who kept his eyes fixed on his ledger as before, making the same dull sound that some machines make: ”Six--eight--fourteen--twenty-seven--thirty.”

”I say, my good man, haven't you stopped that since the last time I came?” cried Cherami, tapping on the clerk's desk with his switch.

”Sapristi! you're no common clerk; you're a living logarithm, a ciphering-machine on which somebody ought to take out a patent! You ought to fetch a big price.”

The old clerk replied simply, without raising his head:

”Don't hit my ledger like that; don't you see that you raise the dust?”

”Yes, to be sure, I see that I raise lots of dust; your office-boys don't dust here every day, it seems?”

”Thirty-five--forty-four--fifty-three.”

”Ah! the machine's starting up again. Look you: I would be glad to avoid applying to your employer, Monsieur Grandcourt, as we're not on the best of terms. Come, Papa Double-Naught, tell me if the banker's nephew, Gustave, has returned from Germany. I have something to say to him--something important, very important; I am anxious to a.s.sure his happiness! Well?”

”Eighty from a hundred and sixty leaves----”

”Ah! this is too much! it pa.s.ses conception! He ought to be sent to the Exposition!”

Having brought his switch down on the desk once more, with such violence that the sand and ink flew up into the clerk's face, Cherami strode toward the banker's private office, and found that gentleman reading the newspaper.

At sight of Cherami, whom he recognized at once, although his apparel was greatly improved, Monsieur Grandcourt frowned. His visitor, on the contrary, tried to smile, and said, bowing gracefully:

”Monsieur, I have the honor to be your servant.”

”Good-morning, monsieur!”

”Do you remember me, by any chance?”

”Perfectly, monsieur. Indeed, you are not at all changed, except in respect to your dress, which I congratulate you upon having renewed.”

”Ah! you notice that? You look at a man's dress, I see?”

”Why, I should say that it was impossible not to notice it.”

”I mean to say that you attach importance to it, that you judge the man by his coat.”

”Was it to ascertain my opinion on that subject that you called on me, monsieur?”

”No; oh, no! I snap my fingers at other people's opinions. I know my own value, and that's enough for me.”

”I congratulate you, monsieur, on knowing your own value; it is quite possible that the world at large doesn't suspect it.”

Cherami bit his lips and twisted his whiskers, muttering:

”This devil of a fellow hasn't changed, either--still sarcastic, mocking. I don't despise intellects of that type; they p.r.i.c.k and stir one up. You retort, and the conversation is all the more highly spiced.”