"Lord o' mercy! Mr. Rudolph, do you wish me to throw myself across the fire, curl my wig with boiling oil? or would you prefer I should bite some one? Speak, I am wholly yours! I and my heart are your slaves, except—"
"Make yourself easy, Mrs. Pipelet; this is not what I mean. I want a place for a young orphan. She is a stranger; she has never been at Paris, and I wish to send her to M. Ferrand's."
"You suffocate me! How? In his barrack? to that Old miser's?"
"It is nevertheless a situation. If the girl should not like it, she can leave; but, at least, she will for the time earn her living, and I shall be easy on her account."
"Marry! Mr. Rudolph, it's your affair: you are warned. If, notwithstanding, you find the place good, you are the master; and, besides, I must be just—speaking of the notary—if there's something against, there's also something for him. He is as miserly as a dog, hard as an ass, bigoted as a sacristan, it is true; but he is as honest as one can be. He gives small wages, but he pays like a man. The food is bad. In fine, it is a house where one must work like a horse, but where there is no risk of a young girl's reputation. Louise was an exception."
"Madame Pipelet, I am going to confide a secret to your honor."
"On the faith of Anastasia Pipelet, whose maiden name was Galimard, as true as there is a holiness in heaven, and Alfred wears only green coats, I shall be as dumb as a fish."
"You must not say a word to Mr. Pipelet."
"I swear it on the head of my old darling! If the motive is honest."
"Oh, Mrs. Pipelet!"