Marthe [preventing him]. Especially when one is a little—lit up!
Madame Bail. Marthe, that's not at all nice of you!
Lamblin [to Madame Bail]. Ah, you're the only one who understands me, Mother! Now, little one, you're going to give me a cigar, one of those on the table.
Marthe [giving him a cigar]. Lazy! He can't even stretch his arm out!
Lamblin. You see, I prefer to have my little wife serve me and be nice to me.
Madame Bail [looking at them both]. Shall I go?
Lamblin. Why should you?
Madame Bail. Well—because—
Lamblin [understanding]. Oh! No, no, stay with us and tell us stories. The little one is moody and severe, I don't dare risk putting my arm around her. Her religion forbids her—expanding!
Madame Bail. Then you don't think I'll be in the way?