He went to visit the house which was to let. The porter, who had not seen him approach, was saying mysteriously to a neighbour:
"Pooh, pooh, waste of time. M. Maslon has promised him that he shall have it for three hundred francs; and, as the mayor kicked, he has been summoned to the bishop's palace by M. the Grand Vicar de Frilair."
Julien's arrival seemed very much to disconcert the two friends who did not say another word. Julien made a point of being present at the auction of the lease.
There was a crowd in the badly-lighted hall, but everybody kept quizzing each other in quite a singular way. All eyes were fixed on a table where Julien perceived three little lighted candle-ends on a tin plate. The usher was crying out "Three hundred francs, gentlemen."
"Three hundred francs, that's a bit too thick," said a man to his neighbour in a low voice. Julien was between the two of them. "It's worth more than eight hundred, I will raise the bidding," "It's cutting off your nose to spite your face. What will you gain by putting M. Maslon, M. Valenod, the Bishop, this terrible Grand Vicar de Frilair and the whole gang on your track."
"Three hundred and twenty francs," shouted out the other.
"Damned brute," answered his neighbour. "Why here we have a spy of the mayor," he added, designating Julien.
Julien turned sharply round to punish this remark, but the two, Franc-comtois, were no longer paying any attention to him. Their coolness gave him back his own. At that moment the last candle-end went out and the usher's drawling voice awarded the house to M. de St. Giraud of the office of the prefecture of for a term of nine years and for a rent of 320 francs.
As soon as the mayor had left the hall, the gossip began again.
"Here's thirty francs that Grogeot's recklessness is landing the municipality in for," said one—"But," answered another, "M. de Saint Giraud will revenge himself on Grogeot."
"How monstrous," said a big man on Julien's left. "A house which I myself would have given eight hundred francs for my factory, and I would have got a good bargain."
"Pooh!" answered a young manufacturer, "doesn't M. de St. Giraud belong to the congregation? Haven't his four
