"I am gifing die bresents . . ." he said, and he smiled. It was the first smile for three months, but any one who had seen Schmucke's face would have shuddered to see it there.
"But dere is ein condition—"
"It is too kind of you, sir," said the mother.
"De liddle girl shall gif me a kiss and put die flowers in her hair, like die liddle German maidens—"
"Olga, child, do just as the gentleman wishes," said the mother, assuming an air of discipline.
"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."