“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 pretence of being able to purchase a farm, then with my six months I would decamp.”
“Well, well,” said Andrea, “that isn’t a bad idea.”
“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 gave 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 ago you were dying with hunger.”
“The appetite grows by what it feeds on,” said Caderousse, grinning and showing his teeth, like a monkey laughing or a tiger growling. “And,” added he, biting off with his 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 establishment of M——! eh? was it not I? and it was no bad one I believe, since here we are!”