Beggar. Forty years I worked at the machine—and now I have nothing to show for it but diseased lungs.
Townswoman [decisively]. Aristide, we are going home. Tuberculosis is contagious.
Workingman. That's capital for you. The capitalist sucks the workingman dry and then turns him out on the streets to starve. But we, the people, shall have our day. When first the uprising of the masses—
American. Oh, don't make a speech.
Beggar [whining]. And my military medal is gone. I must have lost it in the water. You can still see the saber wound on my arm.
Young Man. Thus the Fatherland repays its valiant sons.
Beggar. Nobody knows what I suffered for France. Twenty years I served in the foreign legion.
American. This fellow ought to be celebrating his two hundredth birthday soon.
Beggar. O God—my poor wife—my poor children—the youngest is just four months old—
Cocotte. Poor soul, here are two francs for you. [Other people take out their purses.]