with bowed head. He raised it with an
effort and said in a breaking voice:

"Supposing, my dear fellow, I were to ask this of you as a favor?"

"I cannot, I cannot," Fauchery kept repeating as he writhed to get free.

Muffat's voice became harder.

"I pray and beseech you for it! I want it!"

And with that he fixed his eyes on him. The young man read menaces in
that darkling gaze and suddenly gave way with a splutter of confused
phrases:

"Do what you like--I don't care a pin about it. Yes, yes, you're abusing
your power, but you'll see, you'll see!"

At this the embarrassment of both increased. Fauchery was leaning up
against a set of shelves and was tapping nervously on the ground with
his foot. Muffat seemed busy examining the eggcup, which he was still
turning round and about.

"It's an eggcup," Bordenave obligingly came and remarked.

"Yes, to be sure! It's an eggeup," the count repeated.

"Excuse me, you're covered with dust," continued the manager, putting
the thing back on a shelf. "If one had to dust every day there'd be no
end to it, you understand. But it's hardly clean here--a filthy mess,
eh? Yet you may believe me or not when I tell you there's money in it.
Now look, just look at all that!"

He walked Muffat round in front of the pigeonholes and shelves and in
the greenish light which filtered through the courtyard, told him the
names of different properties, for he was anxious to interest him in his
marine-stores inventory, as he jocosely termed it.

Presently, when they had returned into Fauchery's neighborhood, he said
carelessly enough:

"Listen, since we're all of one mind, we'll finish the matter at once.
Here's Mignon, just when he's wanted."

For some little time past Mignon had been prowling in the adjoining
passage, and the very moment Bordenave began talking of a modification
of their agreement he burst into wrathful protest. It was infamous--they
wanted to spoil his wife's career--he'd go to law about it! Bordenave,
meanwhile, was extremely calm and full of reasons. He did not think the
part worthy of Rose, and he preferred to reserve her for an operetta,
which was to be put on after the Petite Duchesse. But when her husband
still continued shouting he suddenly offered to cancel their arrangement
in view of the offers which the Folies-Dramatiques had been making the
singer. At this Mignon was momentarily put out, so without denying the
truth of these offers he loudly professed