money, guardian … Place it yourself. I don't need it, and will only spend it; it will get away from me because I am not used to it. While you are the man to manage and make use of it as it should be done …"
But he was afraid that the proud Dobouziez, accustomed to playing with millions, would accept such an offer of his laughable capital, the legacy of the late Paridael, that poor clerk, as an insulting familiarity.
And yet with what good will Paridael, junior, would have lent, or even given, the savings of the defunct clerk to this employer of yesterday, himself become, in his turn, a clerk.
"Come, hurry up!" repeated Dobouziez in an icy tone, after having consulted his watch.
Laurent was compelled to take his money. He still delayed going to the door: "At least, cousin, allow me to thank you and to ask you …" he mumbled, pushing his conciliation to the point of repenting his involuntary wrongs and reproaching himself for the antipathy he had inspired, in spite of himself, in the sage.
"All right! All right!"
And the imperturbable gesture and expression of Dobouziez continued to repeat: "I have done my duty, and I don't need anyone's gratitude!"
The transaction had been exact. The inheritance had been administered in an irreproachable manner. The result had been foreseen. Everything was foreseen!
But the rational Dobouziez did not expect the anomalous way in which the orphan was soon to testify his gratitude! He forgot, this perfect calculator, that certain problems are capable of many solutions,
