“Yes, I know... but remember dat I am alone in die earth, dat I haf no friend. You dat haf shed a tear for Bons enliden me; I am in teep tarkness, und Bons said dat I vas in der midst of shcoundrels.”
“I have seen that plainly already; I have just prevented them from sending you to Clichy.”
“Gligy!” repeated Schmucke; “I do not understand.”
“Poor man! Well, never mind, I will come to you. Good-bye.”
“Goot-bye; komm again soon,” said Schmucke, dropping half-dead with weariness.
“Good-bye, mosieu,” said Mme. Sauvage, and there was something in her tone that struck Topinard.
“Oh, come, what is the matter now?” he asked, banteringly. “You are attitudinizing like a traitor in a melodrama.”
“Traitor yourself! Why have you come meddling here? Do you want to have a hand in the master’s affairs, and swindle him, eh?”
“Swindle him!... Your very humble servant!” Topinard answered with superb disdain. “I am only a poor super at a theatre, but I am something of an artist, and you may as well know that I never asked anything of anybody yet! Who asked anything of you? Who owes you anything? eh, old lady!”
“You are employed at a theatre, and your name is—?”