Bendish:
My honor?
Cadwell:
The honor of Bendish?
Bendish: Assuredly. You wouldn't have me confirm your reputation as the most rascally, the most vain, the most faithless, the least amorous man in the world would you?
Cadwell:
It wouldn't please me at all.
Bendish: Eh! What would you have me reply to such accusations? For you're seeing only the rough draft of the portrait they paint of you these days. What would you have me say?
Cadwell:
Nothing. Be quiet—and begin now.
Bendish: Oh, sir, he who says nothing admits and I do not want anyone in the world to believe that I know your character, and besides, I plan to improve my business and yours, for you see everyone thinks of his own self interest. I need only be silent in response to the hundred questions put to me. "My poor Bendish," said one. "Here's a finger ring. I beg you tell me what your master's up to. What time does he come in? What's he like when he doesn't see me? Does he think of me? Does he speak to you of me? Is he restless, happy, sad, gay, melancholy, at ease, taciturn, giddy, chagrined, joking, wise, crazy?" What the devil do I know—a hundred thousand other things of a like nature.
Cadwell:
Well—what do you reply to all this?
Bendish:
According to the ring.
Cadwell: Ah! I know quite well that with you my honor and yours march quite separately—according to your interest.— Let's change the subject. Do you know what?