"No; but since that unfortunate fall, which I was responsible for, you know that he has been living in Bastringuette's room and that she is taking care of him; you must know it—as it was you who told me."
"Yes, to be sure he's with her. Instead of having him taken to the hospital, where he'd have been taken care of for nothing, she took him to her own room; she's his nurse, his sœur de pot. Gad! a woman must love a man, to spend all her money in drugs and medicines for him! But it seems she does love him—with fire and blood!"
Sans-Cravate gnawed his nails, but said nothing. After a few minutes, he asked, in a low tone:
"How about his wound? isn't it getting better? Won't he soon be well?"
"Oh! I don't know! that is to say, yes—the wound on the head's better; it's all healed; but it seems that the arm will take longer; he broke something or other when he fell, and that can't be put right in a minute."
"What surprises me," said Sans-Cravate, after a pause, "is that the little dressmaker hasn't come once to ask us about him."
"Pardi! she's probably done the same as he has—some other love affair; and the proof is that she don't come to her work as early as she used to; and she goes away much earlier. She has assignations to keep, no doubt. Bah! it's no use, I can't swallow this dry; it scrapes my throat; I must have a drink! Come on, Sans-Cravate, let's go to that other wine shop, on the right; you can say it's to be charged to you, and they'll trust you."
"No; I don't propose to get trusted any more. When we haven't got any money, we must drink water."
"Why, that's nonsense! on the contrary, when you haven't got any money, you get tight to forget your troubles. Come on; I'll treat, and owe you the money."
"No, I won't go!"