Host. Nabbed—what do you mean? He didn't really steal I suppose.
Grain. Yes, he did. But it must have been the first time, for he seems to have gone about it with incredible clumsiness. Just think of it—(confidentially)—just made a grab at the pocket of a lady in the Boulevard des Capucines, and pulled out her purse—an absolute amateur. You inspire me with confidence, Citizen Prosper, and so I'll make a confession to you. There was a time when I, too, transacted little bits of business of that sort, but never without my dear father. When I was still a child, when we all lived together, when my poor aunt was still alive—
Host. What are you moaning for! I think 'tis in bad taste. You ought not to have killed her.
Grain. Too late. But the point I was coming to is—take me on here. I will do just the opposite of Gaston. He played the thief and became one—
Host. I will give you a trial. You will produce a fine effect with your make-up. And at a given moment you'll just describe the aunt matter—how it all happened—someone or other will be sure to ask you.
Grain. I thank you, Citizen Prosper. And with regard to my wages—
Host. Tonight you will play on trial, and I am, therefore, not yet in a position to pay you wages. But you will get good stuff to eat and drink; and I shall not mind a franc or so for a night's lodging.
Grain. I thank you. And just introduce me to your other colleagues as a visitor from the provinces.
Host. Oh, no. We will tell them right away that you are a real murderer. They will much prefer that.
Grain. Pardon me. I don't wish to do anything against my interests, but I don't see why—