“I must speak to you,” she went on.
Then he took down the key, but she stopped him.
“No, no! Down there, in our home!”
And they went to their room at the Hôtel de Boulogne.
On arriving she drank off a large glass of water. She was very pale. She said to him—
“Léon, you will do me a service?”
And, shaking him by both hands that she grasped tightly, she added—
“Listen, I want eight thousand francs.”
“But you are mad!”
“Not yet.”
And thereupon, telling him the story of the distraint, she explained her distress to him; for Charles knew nothing of it; her mother-in-law detested her; old Rouault could do nothing; but he, Léon, he would set about finding this indispensable sum.
“How on earth can I?”
“What a coward you are!” she cried.
Then he said stupidly, “You are exaggerating the difficulty. Perhaps, with a thousand crowns or so the fellow could be stopped.”
All the greater reason to try and do something; it was impossible that they could not find three thousand francs. Besides, Léon, could be security instead of her.