"No, give me the letter; I have changed my mind; I will go myself to the Viscount de Saint Remy," said Badinot, emphasizing purposely the aristocratic address.
"Here is the letter, sir; have you no other commission?"
"No, friend Micou," said Badinot, with a patronizing air; "but I have reproaches to make to you."
"To me, sir?"
"Very grave reproaches."
"How, sir?"
"Certainly Madame de Saint Ildefonso pays very dear for your first floor. My niece is one of those lodgers to whom one should pay the greatest respect; she came with confidence to this house, disliking the noise of the large streets; she hoped she would be here as in the country."
"And she is; just like a village. You ought to find it so, sir, who live in the country—it is just like a real village here."
"A village? Very fine—always the most infernal noise."
"Yet it is impossible to find a more quiet house. Over madame, there is the leader of the orchestra of the Cafe des Aveugles and a traveling clerk; over them another clerk; over him again, there is—"