“I neet not tell you dat der Bank demands of all, graat and small alaike, dree zignatures. So denn, you traw a cheque to die order of our frient tu Tillet, and I vill sent it, same tay, to der Bank mit mein zignature; so shall you haf, at four o’clock, der amount of die cheque you trew in der morning; and at der costs of die Bank. I vill not receif a commission, no! I vill haf only der blaysure to be agreeaple to you. But I mak one condeetion,” he added, laying his left finger lightly on his nose with an inimitably sly gesture.
“Monsieur le baron, it is granted on the sport,” said Birotteau, who thought it concerned some tithe to be levied on his profits.
“A condeetion to vich I attache der graatest imbortance, because I vish Matame de Nucingen should receif, as she say, zom lessons from Matame Pirodot.”
“Monsieur le baron! pray do not laugh at me, I entreat you.”
“Monsieur Pirodot,” said the financier, with a serious air, “it is deen agreet; you vill invite us to your nex pall? My vife is shalous; she vish to see your abbartement, of vich she hear so mooch.”
“Monsieur le baron!—”
“Oh! if you reffuse me, no creydit! Yes, I know der Prayfic of die Seine was at your las pall.”
“Monsieur le baron!—”
“You had Pillartiere, shentelman of der betchamber; goot royalist like you, who vas vounded at Zaint-Roqque—”
“On the 13th Vendemiaire, Monsieur le baron.”