Andrea shuddered; he always did so at Caderousse’s ideas.
"It is miserable—do you see?—always to wait till the end of the month.”
“Oh!” said Andrea, philosophically, determined to watch his companion narrowly, “does not life pass in waiting? Do I, for instance, do anything else? Well, I wait patiently, do I not?”
“Yes, because instead of expecting two hundred wretched francs, you expect five or six thousand, perhaps ten, perhaps even twelve; for you take care not to let any one know the utmost; down there, you always had little presents, and Christmas-boxes, which you tried to hide from your poor friend Caderousse. Fortunately he is a cunning fellow, that friend Caderousse."
"There you are beginning again to ramble, to talk again and again of the past! But what is the use of so much repetition?"
"Ah! you are only one-and-twenty, and can forget the past; I am fifty, and am obliged to recollect it. But let us return to business."
"Yes."
"I was going to say, if I were in your place”
"Well."
"I would realize”
"How would you realize?”
"I would ask for six months’ in advance, under pretense of being able to purchase a farm, then with my six months’ I would decamp."
"Well, well," said Andrea, "that is no bad thought."
"My dear friend," said Caderousse, “eat of my bread, and take my advice; you will be none the worse off, physically or morally.”
"But," said Andrea, "why do you not act on the advice you give me? Why do you not realize a six months’, a year’s advance even, and retire to Brussels? Instead of living the retired baker, you might live as a bankrupt using his privileges; that would be very good."
"But how the devil would you have me retire on twelve hundred francs?"
"Ah! Caderousse," said Andrea, "how covetous you are! two months since you were dying with hunger."
"In eating the appetite grows," said Caderousse, grinning and showing his teeth, like a monkey laughing or a tiger growling. "And," added he, biting off, with those large white teeth, an enormous mouthful of bread, "I have formed a plan."
Caderousse’s plans alarmed Andrea still more than his ideas: ideas were but the germ, the plan was reality.
"Let me see your plan; I dare say it is a pretty one."
"Why not? Who formed the plan by which we left the establish-
