"Exactly the sum I want. Where are those fifty pistoles?"
"Here," said Malicorne, slapping his pocket.
"Then speak, my friend; what do you want?" Malicorne took up the pen, ink, and paper again, and presented them all to Manicamp.
"Write," said he.
"Dictate."
"An order for a place in the household of Monsieur." "Oh!" said Manicamp, laying down the pen, "a place in the household of Monsieur for fifty pistoles?"
"You mistook me, my friend; you did not hear plainly."
"What did you say, then?"
"I said five hundred."
"And the five hundred?"
"Here they are."
Manicamp devoured the roiileau with his eyes; but this time Malicorne held it at a distance.
"Eh! what do you say to that? Five hundred pistoles."
"I say it is for nothing, my friend," said Manicamp, taking up the pen again, "and you will wear out my credit. Dictate."
Malicorne continued:
"Which my friend the Comte de Guiche will obtain for my friend Malicorne."
"That's it," said Manicamp.
"Pardon me, you have forgotten to sign."
"Ah! that is true."
"The five hundred pistoles?"
"Here are two hundred and fifty of them."
"And the other two hundred and fifty?"
"When I shall be in possession of my place."
Manicamp made a face.
"In that case, give me the recommendation back again."
"What to do?"
"To add two words to it."
"Two words?"
"Yes, two words only."
"What are they?"
"In haste."
Malicorne returned the recommendation; Manicamp added the words.
"Good!" said Malicorne, taking back the paper. Manicamp began to count the pistoles.
"They want twenty," said he.
