"It is impossible for a moral man to become an accomplice in such wickedness," said Marcel. "My conscience forbids me to pay money to this old profligate. I shall not pay my rent, but my conscience will at any rate be clear. What morals, and in a bald headed man too."
By this time the landlord was completely gone, and talked at random to the bottles. He had been there nearly two hours, when his wife, alarmed at his prolonged absence, sent the maid after him. On seeing her master in such a state, she set up a shriek, and asked, "what are they doing to him?"
"Nothing," answered Marcel. "He came a few minutes ago to ask for the rent. As we had no money we begged for time."
"But he's been and got drunk," said the servant.
"Very likely," replied Rodolphe. "Most of that was done before he came here. He told us that he had been arranging his cellar."
"And he had so completely lost his head," added Colline, "that he wanted to leave the receipt without the money."
"Give these to his wife," said Marcel, handing over the receipts. "We are honest folk, and do not wish to take advantage of his condition."
"Good heavens! What will madame say?" exclaimed the maid, leading, or rather dragging off her master, who had a very imperfect idea of the use of his legs.
"So much for him!" ejaculated Marcel.
"He has smelt money," said Rodolphe. "He will come again tomorrow."