Other People's Money HTML version
Mme. Favoral spoke from experience. She had learned, to her cost, that the
whistle of her husband, more surely than the shriek of the stormy petrel,
announces the storm.--And she had that evening more reasons than usual to
fear. Breaking from all his habits, M. Favoral had not come home to dinner, and
had sent one of the clerks of the Mutual Credit Society to say that they should not
wait for him.
Soon his latch-key grated in the lock; the door swung open; he came in; and,
seeing his son:
"Well, I am glad to find you here," he exclaimed with a giggle, which with him was
the utmost expression of anger.
Mme. Favoral shuddered. Still under the impression of the scene which had just
taken place, his heart heavy, and his eyes full of tears, Maxence did not answer.
"It is doubtless a wager," resumed the father, "and you wish to know how far my
patience may go."
"I do not understand you," stammered the young man.
"The money that you used to get, I know not where, doubtless fails you now, or at
least is no longer sufficient, and you go on making debts right and left--at the
tailor's, the shirt maker's, the jeweler's. Of course, it's simple enough. We earn
nothing; but we wish to dress in the latest style, to wear a gold chain across our
vest, and then we make dupes."
"I have never made any dupes, father."
"Bah! And what, then, do you call all these people who came this very day to
present me their bills? For they did dare to come to my office! They had agreed