Grasset. It does 'em good. It gives a fillip to their jaded senses. 'Twas here that I made my start, Labrêt—here that I delivered my first speech as though for a joke; here it was that I first began to hate the dogs who sat amongst us with all their fine clothes and perfumes and rottenness ... and I am very glad indeed, my good Labrêt, that you, too, should see just for once the place from which your great friend raised himself. (In another tone.) I say, Prosper, supposing the business doesn't come off—
Host. What business?
Grasset. Why, my political career—will you engage me again?
Host. Not for anything!
Grasset (lightly). Why—I thought there might be still room for somebody besides your Henri.
Host. Apart from that ... I should be afraid that you might forget yourself one fine day and fall foul in earnest of one of my paying customers.
Grasset (flattered). That would certainly be possible—
Host. I—I have control over myself—
Grasset. Frankly, Prosper, I must say that I would admire you for your self-control, if I happened not to know that you are a poltroon.
Host. Ah! my friend, I am satisfied with what I can do in my own line. I get enough pleasure out of being able to tell the fellows my opinion of them to their faces and to insult them to my heart's content—while they take it for a joke. That, too, is a way of venting one's wrath. (Draws a dagger and makes it flash.)