Baron Trigaults Vengeance | Page 4

she would never allow her worthy husband to

see.
"What would you charge per month?" inquired Pascal.
She seemed to reflect, and after a great deal of counting on her fingers,
she finally declared that she would be content with breakfast and fifteen
francs a month, on condition she was allowed to do the marketing. The
first question of French cooks, on presenting themselves for a situation,
is almost invariably, "Shall I do the marketing?" which of course means,
"Shall I have any opportunities for stealing?" Everybody knows this,
and nobody is astonished at it.
"I shall do the marketing myself," declared Madame Ferailleur, boldly.
"Then I shall want thirty francs a month," replied Madame Vantrasson,
promptly.
Pascal and his mother exchanged glances. They were both unfavorably
impressed by this woman, and were equally determined to rid
themselves of her, which it was easy enough to do. "Too dear!" said
Madame Ferailleur; "I have never given over fifteen francs."
But Madame Vantrasson was not the woman to be easily discouraged,
especially as she knew that if she failed to obtain this situation, she
might have considerable difficulty in finding another one. She could
only hope to obtain employment from strangers and newcomers, who
were ignorant of the reputation of the model lodging-house. So in view
of softening the hearts of Pascal and his mother, she began to relate the
history of her life, skilfully mingling the false with the true, and
representing herself as an unfortunate victim of circumstances, and the
inhuman cruelty of relatives. For she belonged, like her husband, to a
very respectable family, as the Maumejans might easily ascertain by
inquiry. Vantrasson's sister was the wife of a man named Greloux, who
had once been a bookbinder in the Rue Saint-Denis, but who had now
retired from business with a competency. "Why had this Greloux
refused to save them from bankruptcy? Because one could never hope
for a favor from relatives," she groaned; "they are jealous if you
succeed; and if you are unfortunate, they cast you off."
However, these doleful complaints, far from rendering Madame
Vantrasson interesting, imparted a deceitful and most disagreeable
expression to her countenance. "I told you that I could only give fifteen
francs," interrupted Madame Ferailleur--"take it or leave it."
Madame Vantrasson protested. She expressed her willingness to deduct

five francs from the sum she had named, but more--it was impossible!
Would they haggle over ten francs to secure such a treasure as herself,
an honest, settled woman, who was entirely devoted to her employers?"
Besides, I have been a grand cook in my time," she added, "and I have
not lost all my skill. Monsieur and madame would be delighted with
my cooking, for I have seen more than one fine gentleman smack his
lips over my sauces when was in the employment of the Count de
Chalusse."
Pascal and his mother could not repress a start on hearing this name;
but it was in a tone of well-assumed indifference that Madame
Ferailleur repeated, "M. de Chalusse?"
"Yes, madame--a count--and so rich that he didn't know how much he
was worth. If he were still alive I shouldn't be compelled to go out to
service again. But he's dead and he's to be buried this very day." And
with an air of profound secrecy, she added: "On going yesterday to the
Hotel de Chalusse to ask for a little help, I heard of the great misfortune.
Vantrasson, my husband, accompanied me, and while we were talking
with the concierge, a young woman passed through the hall, and he
recognized her as a person who some time ago was--well--no better
than she should be. Now, however, she's a young lady as lofty as the
clouds, and the deceased count has been passing her off as his daughter.
Ah! this is a strange world."
Pascal had become whiter than the ceiling. His eyes blazed; and
Madame Ferailleur trembled. "Very well," she said, "I will give you
twenty-five francs--but on condition you come without complaining if I
sometimes require your services of an evening. On these occasions I
will give you your dinner." And taking five francs from her pocket she
placed them in Madame Vantrasson's hand, adding: ' Here is your
earnest money."
The other quickly pocketed the coin, not a little surprised by this
sudden decision which she had scarcely hoped for, and which she by no
means understood. Still she was so delighted with this denouement that
she expressed her willingness to enter upon her duties at once; and to
get rid of her Madame Ferailleur was obliged to send her out to
purchase the necessary supplies for breakfast. Then, as soon as she was
alone with her son, she turned to him and asked: "Well, Pascal?"
But the wretched man seemed turned