satisfied, I beg that you will sign here … You may have a duplicate of it …"
Laurent made a movement to seize the pen and sign immediately.
Monsieur Dobouziez caught his arm, and said, in his even voice: "None of that!… You'll only displease me … Look it through, first."
Since he felt that way about it, Laurent sat down at the desk and pretended to attentively look over the account of transactions. While waiting, his guardian turned his back upon him and looked out the window, strumming upon the pane.
Laurent did not dare make too short work of his sham verification. He waited five minutes, then risked attracting his relative's attention.
"It is absolutely perfect, cousin!"
And he hastened to affix his best signature to this paper, drawn up so distinctly and with such minute detail.
Dobouziez came back to the desk, blotted the receipted sheet, and locked it in a drawer.
"Good! There is due you thirty two thousand, eight hundred francs. Kindly see whether this is the correct amount."
Vexed and chagrined, Laurent started to pocket the bills and the gold pell-mell.
"Count it, first," said Dobouziez, stopping him.
The young man again obeyed, even counted out loud; then, choking, before he came to the end of his reckoning, he pushed away the neatly piled bills and cash with an abrupt gesture.
"What's the matter? Is there an error?"
The ferociously honest man!
Laurent would have liked to say to him: "Keep this
