"Poor old fellow! you are without most things.—Are you also sans culotte?"
"You laugh at me! I am done for," cried the Baron. "And I counted on you as Gourville did on Ninon."
"And it was a 'real lady,' I am told who brought you to this," said Josepha. "Those precious sluts know how to pluck a goose even better than we do!—Why, you are like a corpse that the crows have done with —I can see daylight through!"
"Time is short, Josepha!"
"Come in, old boy, I am alone, as it happens, and my people don't know you. Send away your trap. Is it paid for?"
"Yes," said the Baron, getting out with the help of Josepha's arm.
"You may call yourself my father if you like," said the singer, moved to pity.
She made Hulot sit down in the splendid drawing-room where he had last seen her.
"And is it the fact, old man," she went on, "that you have killed your brother and your uncle, ruined your family, mortgaged your children's house over and over again, and robbed the Government till in Africa, all for your princess?"
Hulot sadly bent his head.