“Do not scold mein liddle German girl,” implored Schmucke. It seemed to him that the little one was his dear Germany. Topinard came in.
“Three porters are bringing up the whole bag of tricks,” he said.
“Oh! Here are two hundred vrancs to bay for eferydings...” said Schmucke. “But, mein friend, your Montame Dobinard is ver’ nice; you shall marry her, is it not so? I shall gif you tausend crowns, and die liddle vone shall haf tausend crowns for her toury, and you shall infest it in her name.... Und you are not to pe ein zuper any more—you are to pe de cashier at de teatre—”
“I?—instead of old Baudrand?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you so?”
“Mennesir Gautissart!”
“Oh! it is enough to send one wild with joy!... Eh! I say, Rosalie, what a rumpus there will be at the theatre! But it is not possible—”
“Our benefactor must not live in a garret—”
“Pshaw! for die few tays dat I haf to lif it ees fery komfortable,” said Schmucke. “Goot-pye; I am going to der zemetery, to see vat dey haf don mit Bons, und to order som flowers for his grafe.”