The Belly of Paris - Emile Zola [43]
She insisted and even got a little angry, whereas Quenu sat in silence, biting his fingernails.
“Besides,” said Florent, bursting into laughter, “if Uncle Gradelle could hear you, he'd find a way to come back and take the money away … He wasn't very fond of me, Uncle Gradelle.”
“That's true, he didn't like you very much,” Quenu, at the end of his patience, muttered.
But Lisa was still arguing. She said that she didn't want to have money that was not hers in her secretary, that it would always bother her, that she couldn't be at peace knowing it was there. But Florent continued to joke, offering to buy shares in the charcuterie. Besides, it wasn't that he was refusing their help, since there was little chance of his finding work right away, and then too he would need some clothes since he was not presentable.
“There you are!” exclaimed Quenu. “You'll sleep with us, eat with us, and we're going to buy you everything you need. That goes without saying. My God, you didn't think we would throw you out in the street, did you?”
Quenu felt emotional and even a little ashamed for having been alarmed at the idea of having to hand over so much money at once. He managed to joke, telling his brother that he was going to fatten him up. Florent nodded, and Lisa folded the sheet of figures and stored it in the secretary.
“You're wrong,” she said to conclude the discussion. “I've done what I should have. Now it will be the way you want it. But as for me, I could not have lived in peace without making the offer, my conscience would have plagued me.”
Then they talked about other things. Florent's presence had to be explained without attracting the attention of the police. He told them how he had managed to return to France, thanks to the papers of a poor devil who had died of yellow fever in Suriname. By an odd coincidence, this fellow had also had the first name Florent. Florent Laquerrière had only a female cousin left behind in Paris, and he had learned of her death while he was in America. Nothing could be easier than to pass himself off as the other Florent. Lisa offered to play the part of the cousin. They agreed to tell a story of cousin Florent returning from America, where he had failed to find his fortune, and they, the Quenu-Gradelles, as they were known in the neighborhood, were putting him up until he could find work. Once everything was settled, Quenu insisted on his brother taking a tour of the house down to every last stool. In the empty room, where there was nothing but chairs, Lisa pushed open a door, showed him a small dressing room, and said that the girl in the shop could sleep there and he could keep his room on the fifth floor.
That evening Florent was suited up in new clothes. Against the advice of Quenu, who found them depressing, he insisted on having another black coat and black pants. They no longer tried to conceal Florent in the house, and Lisa told the story they had worked out to everyone who asked. He spent almost all of his time in the charcuterie, daydreaming on a chair in the kitchen or leaning against the marble in the shop. When they dined, Quenu tried to stuff him with food and became irritated at what a light eater his brother was, leaving half his food on the plate.
Lisa had returned to her easy, kind ways, tolerating Florent's presence even in the morning when he was in the way. She was apt to forget about him, and then, when the figure dressed in black would suddenly appear, it would startle her. But she would somehow produce her beautiful smile so that his feelings would not be hurt. She was struck by this thin man's indifference, and she felt a combination of respect and fear. As for Florent, he felt surrounded by warmth and affection.
At bedtime, he climbed the stairs, a little weary from his empty day, along with the two boys who worked in the charcuterie, who stayed in the attic eaves next to him. One of them, Léon, was barely fifteen years old,