"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).
"He is off his head," Gaudissart said to himself. And a sudden pang of pity for this poor innocent before him brought a tear to the manager's eyes.
"Ah! you understand, mennesir le directeur! Ver' goot. Dat mann mit die liddle taughter is Dobinard, vat tidies der orchestra and lights die lamps. Bons vas fery fond of him, und helped him. He vas der only von dat accombanied mein only friend to die church und to die grafe. . . . I vant dree tausend vrancs for him, und dree tausend for die liddle von—"
"Poor fellow!" said Gaudissart to himself.
Rough, self-made man though he was, he felt touched by this nobleness of nature, by a gratitude for a mere trifle, as the world views it; though for the eyes of this divine innocence the trifle, like Bossuet's cup of water, was worth more than the victories of great captains. Beneath all Gaudissart's vanity, beneath the fierce desire to succeed in life at all costs, to rise to the social level of his old friend Popinot, there lay a warm heart and a kindly nature. Wherefore he canceled his too hasty judgments and went over to Schmucke's side.
"You shall have it all! But I will do better still, my dear Schmucke. Topinard is a good sort—"