"Why, what's the matter?"
"Abominable hypocrites, I say; this is a piece of acting, a trick which you have kindly put upon me—this ass was driven here by you, or by some one at your suggestion; I see clearly how it is."
"See clearly, do you? it is a pity, then, you did not a few minutes ago."
"It is an infernal plot, I say; think you that I came into this wretched country of forests to kill donkeys?"
"Well! but whose fault is it, sir; why did you not bring your eye-glass?"
"My eye-glass; I don't require one, gentlemen, to enable me to see that you have made a fool of me."
"My dear sir, reflect for a moment."
"No, gentlemen, I feel indignant at the paltry joke you have played upon me—you knew that my sight was weak, and on that infirmity you have practised a very shameful trick; you have said to yourselves, 'Send an ass to this Parisian, he will no doubt take it for a wild boar.' Be off, gentlemen, depart; let me have a clear horizon, or I shall proceed to extremity."
"Monsieur le Banquier, if you do not become a little more reasonable, we shall leave you to your reflections and to yourself, and pretty pickings you will be for the wolves."