Bertrand. I told you so. Why will you fly so high?
Macaire. Bertrand, don’t crush me. A pound: a fortune! With a pound to start upon—two pounds, for I’d have borrowed yours—three months from now I might have been driving in my barouche, with you behind it, Bertrand, in a tasteful livery.
Bertrand (seeing Charles). Lord, a policeman!
Macaire. Steady! What is a policeman? Justice’s blind eye. (To Charles.) I think, sir, you are in the force?
Charles. I am, sir, and it was in that character——
Macaire. Ah, sir, a fine service!
Charles. It is, sir, and if your papers——
Macaire. You become your uniform. Have you a mother? Ah, well, well!
Charles. My duty, sir——
Macaire. They tell me one Macaire—is not that his name, Bertrand?—has broken gaol at Lyons?