"The same."
"I do not believe it," declared Monsieur Pantan.
Monsieur Bonticu smiled, raised his voice and called.
"Angelique! Angelique, my dove. Will you come here a little moment?"
"What? And leave the lentil soup to burn?" came an undoubtedly feminine voice from the depths of the house.
"Yes, my treasure."
"What a pest you are, Aristide," said the voice, and its owner, an ample woman of perhaps thirty, appeared in the doorway. Monsieur Bonticu waved a fat hand toward her.
"My wife, Messieurs," he said.
She bowed stiffly. The three men bowed. They said nothing. They gaped at her. She spoke to her husband.
"Is it that you take me for a Punch and Judy show, Aristide?"