“A man who has won thirty francs of me in forty-five minutes cannot look handsome in my eyes.”
“Ah, if you had but seen me seventeen years ago!” replied the clerk.
“You were so good-looking?” asked Crevel.
“That was my ruin; now, if I had been like you—I might be a mayor and a peer.”
“Yes,” said Crevel, with a smile, “you have been too much in the wars; and of the two forms of metal that may be earned by worshiping the god of trade, you have taken the worse—the dross!” [This dialogue is garnished with puns for which it is difficult to find any English equivalent.] And Crevel roared with laughter. Though Marneffe could take offence if his honor were in peril, he always took these rough pleasantries in good part; they were the small coin of conversation between him and Crevel.
“The daughters of Eve cost me dear, no doubt; but, by the powers! ‘Short and sweet’ is my motto.”
“‘Long and happy’ is more to my mind,” returned Crevel.
Madame Marneffe now came in; she saw that her husband was at cards with Crevel, and only the Baron in the room besides; a mere glance at the municipal dignitary showed her the frame of mind he was in, and her line of conduct was at once decided on.
“Marneffe, my dear boy,” said she, leaning on her husband’s shoulder, and passing her pretty fingers through his dingy gray hair, but without succeeding in covering his bald head with it, “it is very late for you; you ought to be in bed. To-morrow, you know, you must dose yourself by the doctor’s orders. Reine will give you your herb tea at seven. If you wish to live, give up your game.”
“We will pay it out up to five points,” said Marneffe to Crevel.