"Have you our notebook of bills due with you?"
Ravenouillet pulled out of his pocket the greasiest and stickiest book
that Gazonal's eyes had ever beheld.
"Write down at three months' sight two notes of five hundred francs
each, which you will proceed to sign."
And Bixiou handed over two notes already drawn to his order by
Ravenouillet, which Ravenouillet immediately signed and inscribed on
the greasy book, in which his wife also kept account of the debts of
the other lodgers.
"Thanks, Ravenouillet," said Bixiou. "And here's a box at the
Vaudeville for you."
"Oh! my daughter will enjoy that," said Ravenouillet, departing.
"There are seventy-one tenants in this house," said Bixiou, "and the
average of what they owe Ravenouillet is six thousand francs a month,
eighteen thousand quarterly for money advanced, postage, etc., not
counting the rents due. He is Providence--at thirty per cent, which we
all pay him, though he never asks for anything."
"Oh, Paris! Paris!" cried Gazonal.
"I'm going to take you now, cousin Gazonal," said Bixiou, after
indorsing the notes, "to see another comedian, who will play you a
charming scene gratis."
"Who is it?" said Gazonal.
"A usurer. As we go along I'll tell you the debut of friend
Ravenouillet in Paris."
Passing in front of the porter's lodge, Gazonal saw Mademoiselle
Lucienne Ravenouillet holding in her hand a music score (she was a
pupil of the Conservatoire), her father reading a newspaper, and
Madame Ravenouillet with a package of letters to be carried up to the
lodgers.
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