Siméon, who seemed absorbed in thought, gave a start.
“Ready for what?” said Don Luis, replying to his unspoken question. “Why, for the great journey, of course! Your passport is in order. Your ticket’s taken: Paris to Hell, single. Non-stop hearse. Sleeping-coffin. Step in, sir!”
The old man, tottering on his legs, made an effort and stammered:
“And Patrice?”
“What about him?”
“I offer you his life in exchange for my own.”
Don Luis folded his arms across his chest:
“Well, of all the cheek! Patrice is a friend; and you think me capable of abandoning him like that? Do you see me, Lupin, making more or less witty jokes upon your imminent death while my friend Patrice is in danger? Old Siméon, you’re getting played out. It’s time you went and rested in a better world.”
He lifted a hanging, opened a door and called out:
“Well, captain, how are you getting on? Ah, I see you’ve recovered consciousness! Are you surprised to see me? No, no thanks, but please come in here. Our old Siméon’s asking for you.”