Count—I was born there. I should not be sorry to end my days there.
André—Very well. We will keep Vilsac for you, and find money in some other way to pay off the mortgage.
Count—How?
André—That's my business; only you must send away the two piqueurs, and six of the keepers.
Count—Poor fellows!
André—And only four horses are to be kept. No more entertainments are to be given, no more fireworks. You will entertain only two or three intimate friends now and then,—if we find as many friends as that among all those that are about us nowadays here.—and you will stay at Vilsac seven or eight months of the year.
Count—Alone!
André—Wait a little. I have not finished yet. This house where we are must be sold. We must put out of doors these servants, who are just so many thieves; and we will keep at Paris only a very modest stopping-place.
Count—Will you kindly allow me to get my breath?
André—Don't stir, or my surgical operation will not be successful. Now that your debts are paid there will be left to you—