"Why, it does not scent of lavender-water. Confound it, but we have a lowish customer to deal with," responded Bourdin, with a gesture of disgust and contempt, and then advanced towards the artisan, who was looking at him with as much surprise as indignation.
Through the door, left a little ajar, might be seen the villainous, watchful, and cunning face of the young scamp Tortillard, who, having followed these strangers unknown to them, was sneaking after, spying, and listening to them.
"What do you want?" inquired the lapidary, abruptly, disgusted at the coarseness of these fellows.
"Jérome Morel?" said Bourdin.
"I am he!"
"Working lapidary?"
"Yes."
"You are quite sure?"
"Quite sure. But you are troublesome, so tell me at once your business, or leave the room."
"Really, your politeness is remarkable! Much obliged! I say, Malicorne," said the man, turning to his comrade, "there's not so much fat to cut at here as there was at that 'ere Viscount de Saint-Rémy's."