“People who boast of the good they do are like the ones who offer you a thing in such a way that you can’t accept it: both give regretfully.”
“We needn’t look very far, lieutenant; haven’t you heaped presents on me? didn’t you take me in, and give me board and lodging?”
“You’re an idiot, Bertrand; don’t you act as my steward, factotum, confidential man of business,—yes, and as my friend, which is better than all the rest, and for which one cannot pay?”
At that, Bertrand turned his head altogether, and blew his nose again, because a great tear had dropped from his eyes. He took two pinches of snuff, and having warmly grasped the hand that his master offered him, he said in a quavering voice:
“Yes, monsieur, you are the best of men; you have a thousand good qualities! and no one had better say anything different in my hearing! Morbleu! my sword isn’t rusty yet.”
“Oho! so now you’re going to flatter me, are you? Remember, Bertrand, that you began this conversation for the purpose of scolding me.”
“Scolding you! no, indeed, lieutenant, but simply to point out to you that it would be more reasonable to love one woman at once; with full liberty to change as soon as you see another one that you like better.”
“Look you, Bertrand, I’ll draw a comparison for you, that you’ll see the justice of at once.”
“You won’t put any Greeks or Romans in it, will you, lieutenant?”
“Not one.—You like wine, don’t you, Bertrand?”