“Oh! he’s a marquis, is he? I don’t know whether he had an onion—ognon—on one side, but he smelt pretty strong of liquor—I know that.”
“Don’t think that I mean to scold you, Tapotte; far from it! I simply want to know what he said to you, so as to do it like a marquis, when I have the opportunity.”
“Why, bless me, he went about it the same way they all do. In the first place, he squeezed me.”
“Good.”
“Then he squeezed me again.”
“Good.”
“Oh, yes! good! good!—I yelled.”
“You did wrong, he was a marquis!”
“I don’t care, when he hurt me. And then—well since it amuses you, why, he kissed me.”
“Good.”