"Well, _mon ami_," said this man, taking his stand at the hearth, as a
king might take his stand in the hall of his vassal, "and what says our
_petit muscadin_?"

"He is neither _petit_ nor _muscadin_, Monsieur Louvier," replied
Gandrin, peevishly; "and he will task your powers to get him thoroughly
into your net. But I have persuaded him to meet you here. What day can
you dine with me? I had better ask no one else."

"To-morrow I dine with my friend O-----, to meet the chiefs of the
Opposition," said M. Louvier, with a sort of careless rollicking
pomposity. "Thursday with Pereire; Saturday I entertain at home. Say
Friday. Your hour?"

"Seven."

"Good! Show me those Rochebriant papers again; there is something I had
forgotten to note. Never mind me. Go on with your work as if I were not
here."

Louvier took up the papers, seated himself in an armchair by the
fireplace, stretched out his legs, and read at his ease, but with a very
rapid eye, as a practised lawyer skims through the technical forms of a
case to fasten upon the marrow of it.

"Ah! as I thought. The farms could not pay even the interest on my
present mortgage; the forests come in for that. If a contractor for the
yearly sale of the woods was bankrupt and did not pay, how could I get my
interest? Answer me that, Gandrin."