Polly
I told him so. I said it was nothing! Oh! Come on. [They go away playing, marching, practising their funny mincing steps. The manager sits down. Mancini strikes a pose by the wall, smiling ironically.]
Mancini
So. You give them medical treatment, too! Look out, Papa Briquet, you have no licence.
Briquet
Just a little advice. They're all so afraid for their lives.
Mancini
His throat is simply burnt with whiskey. These two fellows get drunk every night. I am amazed, Papa Briquet, to see you pay so little attention to their morals. [He laughs.]
Briquet
You make me sick, Mancini.