"He has not given me anything yet, I must allow; but he has promised me fifty ounces."
"Oh! Promises cost don Melchior nothing. It is easier to promise fifty ounces than to give ten piastres."
"Do you think so, Excellency? Is he not rich?"
"He? He is poorer than yourself."
"In that case he must be badly off, for up to the present all my savings consist of debts."
"I really think you are a precious ass, and that you deserve what has happened to you."
"I! Excellency?"
"Hang it! Yes, who else? What, scoundrel! You attach yourself to a villain who has not a farthing—who is hopelessly ruined, instead of taking side with those who could pay you."
"Who are they, if you please, Excellency? I confess that I have very long fingers, and would serve such persons enthusiastically."
"I do not doubt it. Do you fancy that I am going to amuse myself by giving you advice?"