Frans. Girls who don’t know me call me “Angel,” or something similar. Others,—of earlier date,—“scoundrel, wretch, miscreant,” and I don’t know what all ... mostly words that are not to be found in the Dictionnaire de l’Académie.
Van Weller. Tell me, in the devil’s name, who you are, fellow!
Frans. My mother used to call me Levi....
Van Weller. Well then?
Frans. Yes, but ... that is not my name. She only called me so, because there was a Jew of that name who sold vegetables down our street, and I could imitate him so well.
Van Weller. It is enough to exhaust any man’s patience! Speak out, once for all, in whose rooms am I?
[Andries puts his head in at the door.]
Andries. Are you here, General?
Frans (springs to his feet). General? Your obedient servant!
Van Weller (to Andries). Come in! [Enter Andries.] Ask this fellow his name. If he does not answer briefly, and to the point, as soon as I give the word “March!” you take him by the collar and throw him out of window.