though blotched with red, the man had a sturdy courage that made no
show. He knew the science of writing quite as well as Vimeux. At the
office he kept in the background, doing his allotted task with the
collected air of a man who thinks and suffers. His white eyelashes and
lack of eyebrows induced the relentless Bixiou to name him "the white
rabbit." Minard--the Rabourdin of a lower sphere--was filled with the
desire of placing his Zelie in better circumstances, and his mind
searched the ocean of the wants of luxury in hopes of finding an idea,
of making some discovery or some improvement which would bring him a
rapid fortune. His apparent dulness was really caused by the continual
tension of his mind; he went over the history of Cephalic Oils and the
Paste of Sultans, lucifer matches and portable gas, jointed sockets
for hydrostatic lamps,--in short, all the infinitely little inventions
of material civilization which pay so well. He bore Bixiou's jests as
a busy man bears the buzzing of an insect; he was not even annoyed by
them. In spite of his cleverness, Bixiou never perceived the profound
contempt which Minard felt for him. Minard never dreamed of
quarrelling, however,--regarding it as a loss of time. After a while
his composure tired out his tormentor. He always breakfasted with his
wife, and ate nothing at the office. Once a month he took Zelie to the
theatre, with tickets bestowed by du Bruel or Bixiou; for Bixiou was
capable of anything, even of doing a kindness. Monsieur and Madame
Minard paid their visits in person on New-Year's day. Those who saw
them often asked how it was that a woman could keep her husband in
good clothes, wear a Leghorn bonnet with flowers, embroidered muslin
dresses, silk mantles, prunella boots, handsome fichus, a Chinese
parasol, and drive home in a hackney-coach, and yet be virtuous; while
Madame Colleville and other "ladies" of her kind could scarcely make
ends meet, though they had double Madame Minard's means.