The Mayor's face exhibited the utmost consternation at these words. He pulled himself together however and after a cunning conversation of two hours' length, where every single word on both sides was carefully weighed, the subtlety of the peasant scored a victory over the subtlety of the rich man, whose livelihood was not so dependent on his faculty of cunning. All the numerous stipulations which were to regulate Julien's new existence were duly formulated. Not only was his salary fixed at four hundred francs, but they were to be paid in advance on the first of each month.
"Very well, I will give him thirty-five francs," said M. de Rênal.
"I am quite sure," said the peasant, in a fawning voice, "that a rich, generous man like the M. mayor would go as far as thirty-six francs, to make up a good round sum."
"Agreed!" said M. de Rênal, "but let this be final." For the moment his temper gave him a tone of genuine firmness. The peasant saw that it would not do to go any further.
Then, on his side, M. de Renal managed to score. He absolutely refused to give old Sorel, who was very anxious to receive it on behalf of his son, the thirty-six francs for the first month. It had occurred to M. de Rênal that he would have to tell his wife the figure which he had cut throughout these negotiations.
"Hand me back the hundred francs which I gave you," he said sharply. "M. Durand owes me something, I will go with your son to see about a black cloth suit."
After this manifestation of firmness, Sorel had the prudence to return to his respectful formulas; they took a good quarter of an hour. Finally, seeing that there was nothing more to be gained, he took his leave. He finished his last bow with these words:
"I will send my son to the Château." The Mayor's officials called his house by this designation when they wanted to humour him.
When he got back to his workshop, it was in vain that Sorel sought his son. Suspicious of what might happen, Julien had gone out in the middle of the night. He wished to place his Cross of the Legion of Honour and his books in a place of safety. He had taken everything to a young wood-merchant
