better way than by marrying the upright and wholesome daughter of the Tilbaks.
The state of mind into which his interview with Dobouziez had plunged him contributed to accelerate this resolution. Nothing seemed to him more reasonable and more realizable. Her parents' consent he had in advance. They would publish the banns immediately.
Caressing these matrimonial perspectives, he came to The Cocoanut, and, crossing the shop, entered directly, like a familiar friend, into the room at the back. He found all the members of the family together, but was struck by their melancholy erpressions. Before he had time to ask for an explanation, Vincent drew him into the front room, and after a fit of nervous coughing, said in a throaty voice:
"It's decided. Monsieur Lorki! We are going to emigrate; we are leaving for Buenos Aires."
Laurent thought he would drop.
"But, my good Vincent, you're losing your wits!"
"Not a bit of it! It's a very serious matter. I took passage this morning at Monsieur Béjard's, on the quai Sainte-Aldegonde. We're going to sail. For months the idea has been running around in my head. There is nothing left for us to attempt here. The shop doesn't pay any longer. Bread is rare with us now!
"The business has been spoiled. What with the runners who seize upon the sailors at the mouth of the Scheldt and drag him, drunk and besotted, to their dark cellars where they skin him and fleece him to the marrow, the little shopkeeper has to give up the struggle … Unless he wants to consort with them, use their methods and fight with them over the prey with
