Guimard. My wife, Elise!
Biskra. Who stands behind the curtains and puts his hands around her neck?
Guimard. That’s my son, Georges.
Biskra. How old is thy son?
Guimard. Four years come St. Nicholas.
Biskra. And can he already stand behind curtains arid hold the neck of another man’s wife?
Guimard. He cannot—but it is he.
Biskra. Four years old with a fair mustache.
Guimard. A fair mustache, you say. Ah! that is Jules, my friend.
Biskra. Who stands behind the curtains and lays his hand around thy wife’s neck?