And with an air of shrewdness he looked into his
wife's eyes and added: "Would you be glad to be the wife of a receiver
of taxes?"
Felicite's face flushed with a joyous glow. She sat up in bed and
clapped her old withered little hands like a child.
"Really?" she stammered. "At Plassans?"
Pierre, without replying, gave a long affirmative nod. He enjoyed his
consort's astonishment and emotion.
"But," she at last resumed, half sitting, "you would have to deposit
an enormous sum as security. I have heard that our neighbour, Monsieur
Peirotte, had to deposit eighty thousand francs with the Treasury."
"Eh!" said the retired oil-dealer, "that's nothing to do with me; Eugene
will see to that. He will get the money advanced by a banker in Paris.
You see, I selected an appointment bringing in a good income. Eugene at
first made a wry face, saying one must be rich to occupy such posts, to
which influential men were usually nominated. I persisted, however, and
he yielded. To be a receiver of taxes one need not know either Greek
or Latin. I shall have a representative, like Monsieur Peirotte, and he
will do all the work."
Felicite listened to him with rapture.
"I guessed, however," he continued, "what it was that worried our dear
son. We're not much liked here. People know that we have no means, and
will make themselves obnoxious. But all sorts of things occur in a
time of crisis. Eugene wished to get me an appointment in another town.
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