“There I differ with you; I call him eminently distinguished, and I’d rather be able to ‘come’ that cravat tie, and have the pattern of the dark-green waistcoat with the red spots, than I’d have—what shall I say?—all the crisp bank paper I lost awhile ago. You are not going in, surely?” cried he, as the other rang violently at the hotel.
“Yes; I am very tired of this fooling. I wish you hadn’t lost that money.”
“Do you remember how it goes, Bob?
‘His weary song,
The whole day long,
Was still l’argent, l’argent, l’argent’
She is complaining that though the linnet is singing in the trees, and the trout leaping in the river, her tiresome husband could only liken them to the clink of the gold as it fell on the counter? Why, man, you’ll wake the dead if you ring in that fashion!”
“I want to get in.”
“Here comes the fellow at last; how disgusted he’ll be to find there’s not a five-franc piece between us.”
Scarcely was the door opened than Barnard passed in and left him without even a good-night.