“Oh! a very good fellow.”
“But stop,” resumed Rodin, appearing to recollect himself; “ain’t he a man about thirty-six or forty, fat, with a ruddy complexion?”
[Original]
“Ruddy as a glass of red wine,” said Rose-Pompon, “and with a pimpled nose like a mulberry.”
“That’s the man—M. Dumoulin. Oh! in that case, I am quite satisfied, my dear child. The jest no longer makes me uneasy; for M. Dumoulin is a very worthy man—only perhaps a little too fond of his joke.”
“Then, sir, you will try to be useful to Jacques? The stupid pleasantry of Ninny Moulin will not prevent you?”
“I hope not.”
“But I must not tell Ninny Moulin that you know it was he who sent me to call you M. Rodin—eh, sir?”
“Why not? In every case, my dear child, it is always better to speak frankly the truth.”