"Yess, if no pad frosts come."
O Bamps! you Jew, my friend, you tailor, my creditor, you have probably not read those fine lines of Hugo, which, by the way, were not then written:—
"Il faut que l'eau s'épuise à courir les valines;
Il faut que l'éclair brille, et brille peu d'instants;
Il faut qu'avril jaloux brûle de ses gelées
Le beau pommier trop fier de ses fleurs etoilées,
Neige odorante du printemps."
We walked round the garden; then, when I fancied satisfaction carried the day against dissatisfaction, I took Bamps back home. Dinner was waiting for us. I believe the dinner caused Bamps to go from satisfaction back to dissatisfaction.
"Ah, veil," he said to me, when he had taken his cup of coffee and his cognac, "we must now have a liddle talk about business."
"Why not, my dear Bamps? Willingly."
My mother heaved a sigh.
"Veil, then," continued Bamps, "the bill is for a huntred and vifty-vive francs."
"Towards which I have given you twenty."
"Towards vhich you haf gifen me tventy: so dere is a palance of a huntred and thirdy-vive. Towards dese huntred and thirdy-vive, you said you would gif me tventy per month. Two months haf gone py: so dat makes forty you owe me."