Shopkeepers, workmen, and manufacturers in Paris have a mysterious
knack of enlarging a hole in a man's purse. They cannot give the price
of anything upon inquiry; and as the paroxysm of longing cannot abide
delay, orders are given by the feeble light of an approximate estimate
of cost. The same people never send in the bills at once, but ply the
purchaser with furniture till his head spins. Everything is so pretty,
so charming; and every one is satisfied.
A few months later the obliging furniture dealers are metamorphosed,
and reappear in the shape of alarming totals on invoices that fill the
soul with their horrid clamor; they are in urgent want of the money;
they are, as you may say on the brink of bankruptcy, their tears flow,
it is heartrending to hear them! And then----the gulf yawns, and gives
up serried columns of figures marching four deep, when as a matter of
fact they should have issued innocently three by three.
Before Castanier had any idea of how much he had spent, he had
arranged for Aquilina to have a carriage from a livery stable when she
went out, instead of a cab. Castanier was a gourmand; he engaged an
excellent cook; and Aquilina, to please him, had herself made the
purchases of early fruit and vegetables, rare delicacies, and
exquisite wines.
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