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Page 38
Alphonse had stood looking at him with great wondering eyes. When
he was gone, and there was once more silence in the room, it
seemed as though the air was still quivering with the hot words.
Alphonse recalled them one by one, as he stood motionless beside
the desk.
"Did he not know which was the abler of the two?" Yes, assuredly!
he had never denied that Charles was by far his superior.
"He must not think that he would succeed in winning everything to
himself with his smooth face." Alphonse was not conscious of ever
having deprived his friend of anything.
"I don't care for your cocottes" Charles had said.
Could he really have been interested in the little Spanish dancer?
If Alphonse had only had the faintest suspicion of such a thing he
would never have looked at her. But that was nothing to get so
wild about; there were plenty of women in Paris.
And at last: "As sure as to-morrow comes, I will dissolve
partnership!"
Alphonse did not understand it at all. He left the counting-house
and walked moodily through the streets until he met an
acquaintance. That put other thoughts into his head; but all day
he had a feeling as if something gloomy and uncomfortable lay in
wait, ready to seize him so soon as he was alone.
When he reached home, late at night, he found a letter from
Charles. He opened it hastily; but it contained, instead of the
apology he had expected, only a coldly-worded request to M.
Alphonse to attend at the counting-house early the next morning
"in order that the contemplated dissolution of partnership might
be effected as quickly as possible."
Now, for the first time, did Alphonse begin to understand that the
scene in the counting-house had been more than a passing outburst
of passion; but this only made the affair more inexplicable.
And the longer he thought it over, the more clearly did he feel
that Charles had been unjust to him. He had never been angry with
his friend, nor was he precisely angry even now. But as he
repeated to himself all the insults Charles had heaped upon him,
his good-natured heart hardened; and the next morning he took his
place in silence, after a cold "Good morning."
Although he arrived a whole hour earlier than usual, he could see
that Charles had been working long and industriously. There they
sat, each on his side of the desk; they spoke only the most
indispensable words; now and then a paper passed from hand to
hand, but they never looked each other in the face.
In this way they both worked--each more busily than the other--
until twelve o'clock, their usual luncheon-time.
This hour of dejeuner was the favorite time of both. Their custom
was to have it served in their office, and when the old
housekeeper announced that lunch was ready, they would both rise
at once, even if they were in the midst of a sentence or of an
account.
They used to eat standing by the fireplace, or walking up and down
in the warm, comfortable office. Alphonse had always some piquant
stories to tell, and Charles laughed at them. These were his
pleasantest hours.
But that day, when madame said her friendly "Messieurs, on a
servi" they both remained sitting. She opened her eyes wide, and
repeated the words as she went out, but neither moved.
At last Alphonse felt hungry, went to the table, poured out a
glass of wine and began to eat his cutlet. But as he stood there
eating, with his glass in his hand, and looked round the dear old
office where they had spent so many pleasant hours, and then
thought that they were to lose all this and imbitter their lives
for a whim, a sudden burst of passion, the whole situation
appeared to him so preposterous that he almost burst out laughing.
"Look here, Charles," he said, in the half-earnest, half-joking
tone which always used to make Charles laugh, "it will really be
too absurd to advertise: 'According to an amicable agreement, from
such and such a date the firm of--'"
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