I.—What is that?
He.—You have always taken some interest in me, because I am a bon diable, whom you rather despise at bottom, but who diverts you.
I.—Well, that is the plain truth.
He.—I will tell you. [Before beginning he heaved a profound sigh, and clasped his brow with his two hands. Then he recovers his tranquillity and says:]
You know that I am an ignoramus, a fool, a madman, an impertinent, a sluggard, a glutton....
I.—What a panegyric!
He.—’Tis true to the letter, there is not a word to take away; prithee, no debate on that. No one knows me better. I know myself and I do not tell the whole.
I.—I have no wish to cross you, and I will agree to anything.
He.—Well, I used to live with people, who took a liking for me, plainly because I was gifted with all these qualities to such a rare degree.
I.—That is curious. Until now I always thought that people hid these things even from themselves, or else that they granted themselves pardon, while they despised them in others.