And you, Savinien, remember that I see no more of you." "Until the money is spent!" murmured Marechal, in the ear of Madame Desvarennes's nephew.
And taking him by the arm he was leading him toward the safe when the mistress turned to Savinien and said: "By the way, what is your invention ?" "Aunt, it is a threshing machine," answered the young man, gravely.
"Rather a machine for coining money," said the incorrigible Marechal, in an undertone.
"Well; bring me your plans," resumed Madame Desvarennes, after having reflected a moment.

"Perchance you may have hit upon something." The mistress had been generous, and now the woman of business reasserted herself and she thought of reaping the benefit.
Savinien seemed very confused at this demand, and as his aunt gave him an interrogative look, he confessed: "There are no drawings made as yet." "No drawings as yet ?" cried the mistress.

"Where then is your invention ?" "It is here," replied Savinien, and with an inspired gesture he struck his narrow forehead.
Madame Desvarennes and Marechal could not resist breaking out into a laugh.
"And you were already talking of issuing shares ?" said the mistress.
"Do you think people would have paid their money with your brain as sole guarantee?
You! Get along; I am the only one to make bargains like that, and you are the only one with whom I make them.

Go, Marechal, give him his money; I won't gainsay it.

But you are a trickster, as usual!".