"And what do you call the good cause now? For you and your like have changed so many times!"
"Hold your tongue, my dear Bonbec. I don't talk religion with people of your sort."
"Understand, too," interposed Saccage with a sneer, "that the good cause is always the one we serve!"
"Is this the time for jabbering," continued Macabre, "when my Proserpine approaches and I order you to make haste?"
"I cannot work any faster," replied La Pignoux; "why did you call me upstairs?"
"Because I propose that your husband, who is supposed to be a decent sort of cook, shall get up, dead or alive, and put his hand to the dough."
"That is impossible; my man is all twisted up with pain, and hasn't cooked for a long time."
"You lie, my dear; your man is a tool of old—Enough! I know about you; my wife has told me——"
"Old who? what do you mean?"
"Methinks you question me, strumpet!" said the captain, with a burlesque dignity which he assumed in perfect good faith.