"
"Oh! how pretty!"
"As for me, I have an idea that it is superstition that stupefies the
governor more and more."
"It is, perhaps, from penitence, that he gives us forty sous for our
breakfast."
"The fact is, he must be crazy."
"Or sick."
"I think for the last two or three days he has been quite wild."
"Not that we see him so much. He who was, for our torment, in his cabinet
from morning till night, and always at our backs, now has not, for two
days, put his nose into the office."
"That is the reason the head clerk has so much to do."
"And that we are obliged to die with hunger in waiting for him."
"What a change in the office."
"Poor Germain would be much astonished if any one should say to him, 'Only
fancy, my boy, the governor gives us forty sous for our breakfast;' 'Pshaw!
it is impossible,' he would say. 'It is so possible that he has announced
it to me, Chalamel, in my own person.' 'You are jesting.' 'I jest! This is
the way it occurred: during two or three days which followed the death of
Madame Seraphin, we had no breakfast at all. We liked that well enough, for
no breakfast at all was better than that she gave us; but, on the other
hand, our luncheon cost us money. However, we were patient, and said: "The
governor has got no servant, no housekeeper, and when he gets one, we shall
have to live on hash again." It wasn't so, my poor Germain: the old fellow
finally employed a servant, and our breakfast was still buried in the river
of oblivion.
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