At the farther end of
the store Fortunat could vaguely discern the figure of a man
seated on a stool. He seemed to be asleep, for his crossed arms
rested on a table, with his head leaning on them.
"Good luck!" whispered Chupin in his employer's ear; "there is not
a customer in the place. Vantrasson and his wife are alone." This
circumstance was by no means displeasing to M. Fortunat, as could
be seen by his expression of face. "So, m'sieur," continued
Chupin, "you need have no fears. I'll remain here and watch,
while you go in."
M. Fortunat did so. On hearing the door open and shut, the woman
laid down her work. "What can I do for monsieur?" she asked, in a
wheedling voice.
M. Fortunat did not reply at once; but he drew the note with which
he had provided himself from his pocket, and displayed it. "I am
a huissier's clerk," he then exclaimed; "and I called in reference
to this little matter--a note of hand for five hundred and eighty-
three francs, value received in goods, signed Vantrasson, and made
payable to the order of a person named Barutin."
"An execution!" said the woman, whose voice suddenly soured.
"Vantrasson, wake up, and come and see about this."
This summons was unnecessary. On hearing the words "note of
hand," the man had lifted his head; and at the name of Barutin, he
rose and approached with a heavy, uncertain step, as if he had not
yet slept off his intoxication. He was younger than his wife,
tall, with a well-proportioned and athletic form.
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