"Have you met a rich woman who wishes to marry me?"
"You haven't guessed yet; but with what I have discovered, I make no doubt that you will very soon fascinate some wealthy dowager, who will lay her crowns at your feet."
"Come, explain yourself, Bahuchet; you know that I am not very strong at guessing, and you keep me in suspense too long!"
"Quid festinas? What's the hurry? Think; take your time!"
"If you don't tell me, I will go away!"
"What a keg of powder!"
"That is my nature!"
"Well, listen: I have discovered in a cul-de-sac an old hag who has invented a pomade that infallibly makes the hair grow on the baldest skulls and those most rebellious under cultivation!"
Plumard frowned and looked at his comrade with a wrathful air, muttering:
"Do you mean to make sport of me, as usual? You know, Bahuchet, that I don't like that. You have already told me a lot of stories about pomades that did not exist. You have sent me to ask for them to people who have laughed in my face. I want no more of your practical jokes! I will fight you if you begin that game again. I am not afraid to fight; I am no coward! Look out, or I will hit you a crack!"