"Here's the omelet au lard, the wine, and the bread—total, two livres eight sous six deniers, which you must pay me now, or I shall take it all away."
"'Tis well! 'tis well! Sandis! Wait a moment, Poussinet; as you see, I am just finishing a game with monsieur. Let us finish!"
Tired of being detained by his doublet, the shopkeeper decided to resume his seat.
"Well, monsieur," he exclaimed; "since I absolutely must do it to satisfy you, let us play this rubber, which, however, I should be justified in refusing, for, after all, I do not know you! You interfered in the game of dice I was playing with my friend, not with you."
"Par la mordioux! are you afraid of compromising yourself by playing with me, my friend? You do not know me, evidently! Very well! learn that I am Chevalier Castor Pyrrhus de Passedix, the favorite of Monseigneur le Cardinal de Richelieu, and an officer in the queen's Mousquetaires!—Say—are you satisfied now?—In a moment, Poussinet—don't go. Let us settle this business, and don't put your nose so near the omelet!"
The two tradesmen had glanced at each other with a sneering expression while the Gascon chevalier enumerated his name and offices, and they whispered to each other:
"The cardinal's favorite, forsooth! Just look at his doublet; there's a hole in the elbow, and his ruff is all ragged!"
"He is some schemer, some scurvy knave! Shall I play with him?"
"Yes; it would be a good job to win his rose crown."
"But, if he loses, by Notre-Dame! he will have to pay! I will not be put off with his bluster!"