"It is stupid!"
"As you would play it, I predict that it would make an epoch."
"And the music is no good."
"If I may venture to differ from you, the music is haunting—the composer is my lifelong friend."
"I appreciate the argument," she said, with fine irony. "But you will scarcely expect me to play a part that I don't like in order to please you!"
"Frankly, that is just what I do expect," replied the poet. "I think you will consent for my sake."
"Oh, really? For your sake? Would you mind mentioning why, before you go?"
"Because, mademoiselle," said Tricotrin, folding his arms, "in years gone by, you ruined me!"
"Mon Dieu!" she gasped, and she did not doubt that she was in the presence of a lunatic.
"Do not rush to the bell!" he begged. "If it will allay your panic, I will open the door and address you from the landing. I am not insane, I solemnly assert that I am one of the men who have had the honour of being ruined by you." "I have never seen you in my life before!" "I know it. I even admit that I attach no blame to you in the matter. Nevertheless, you cost me two thousand five hundred and forty-three francs, and—as you may judge by my costume—I do not own the Crédit Lyonnais. If you will deign to hear my story, I guarantee that it will convince you. Do you permit me to proceed?"