On the ground floor, where there was no talk of love, they ate much and drank even more. Madame Ratouille’s eyes had grown so small that they were invisible, and Monsieur Poterne’s tongue was beginning to thicken, when Bruno knocked on the door.
For some time no one answered; at last Poterne’s voice inquired:
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Père Poterne; it’s your little monkey, Bruno; please let me in.”
“What do you want, you scalawag? what have you come here for? We are not in need of you. Away you go!”
“I came to get a Greek cap that I forgot to take; I’m sure I can find it, for I know just where I put it. Let me get my cap and I’ll go right away.”
“You annoy us. Go somewhere else and get a cap. Leave us in peace.”
“If you don’t let me get my cap, which is in your house, I’ll knock on the door all night, and I’ll make row enough to bring the watch here.”
That threat convinced Poterne; he opened the door, grumbling:
“Well, come in and find your Greek cap; and make haste to clear out.”