“Six calico shirts, twenty-four francs; as many linen shirts, forty-eight francs; let us say seventy-two. That makes four hundred and sixty-eight francs altogether.—Say five hundred, including cravats and pocket-handkerchiefs; a hundred francs for the laundress—six hundred. And now, how much for your board—three francs a day?”
“No, it ees too much.”
“After all, you want hats; that brings it to fifteen hundred. Five hundred more for rent; that makes two thousand. If I can get two thousand francs per annum for you, are you willing?... Good securities.”
“Und mein tobacco.”
“Two thousand four hundred, then.... Oh! Papa Schmucke, do you call that tobacco? Very well, the tobacco shall be given in.—So that is two thousand four hundred francs per annum.”
“Dat ees not all! I should like som monny.”
“Pin-money!—Just so. Oh, these Germans! And calls himself an innocent, the old Robert Macaire!” thought Gaudissart. Aloud he said, “How much do you want? But this must be the last.”
“It ees to bay a zacred debt.”
“A debt!” said Gaudissart to himself. What a shark it is! He is worse than an eldest son. He will invent a bill or two next! We must cut this short. This Fraisier cannot take large views.—What debt is this, my good man? Speak out.”
“Dere vas but von mann dot haf mourned Bons mit me.... He haf a tear liddle girl mit wunderschones haar; it vas as if I saw mein boor Deutschland dot I should nefer haf left.... Baris is no blace for die Germans; dey laugh at dem” (with a little nod as he spoke, and the air of a man who knows something of life in this world below).