"All right! all right! that's enough! Madame Agar was jesting; in the first place, I am not her nephew, but that's a favorite term of hers that she applies to everybody; she even calls some of her lady customers her nephews. I'll go and give her a lecture, to teach her not to be so familiar.—Then you went to my concierge, Madame Pluchonneau, who made haste to do what I wanted?"
"She didn't make any too much haste, monsieur. In the first place, she cried: 'If monsieur thinks I like doing such errands as this—carrying his coat to the Mont-de-Piété—— '"
"Hush! hush! not so loud! Those concierges are so infernally insolent. It's very warm in my room, the sun shines into it all day; I don't need to keep my winter clothes through the summer, for the moths to eat; and then, I have so many clothes, I really don't know where to keep them. Well?"
"Well, monsieur, your concierge went on with her dinner and didn't show the slightest zeal."
"I'll have my landlord discharge her."
"When she had finished her dinner, she went up to your room.—'If monsieur sends to the Mont-de-Piété so often,' she said, 'I don't know what he'll have left to cover his backside.'"
"Backside! she didn't use that word, I trust?"
"I beg your pardon, monsieur; I have repeated exactly what she said."
"She'll pay dear for that. She shall not do my chamber work any more—I mean, she shan't help my valet with my cooking. But let us skip these details; they are eating the dessert without me."
"At last, monsieur, your concierge did your errand. She was gone a very long time; that's why I could not return any sooner, as you told me to wait."