"But, Monsieur l'Abbé, why quit your warm room, your snug arm-chair? You are so pale."
"Pale, am I! that's better than ever, for I have been as yellow as a quince all my life! Good, I have my trousers and waistcoat; fetch me my redingote!"
"Your redingote! that you only put on when you are going out?"
"And it is precisely because I am going out that I ask for it. You argue to-day like a true stage valet. Why should I not put on my redingote? Are you afraid of it becoming shabby? Do you wish to steal it from me while it is new?"
"I am afraid that you will increase your cough if you don't keep the house to-day. It is very cold this morning."
"Very cold, is it, eh? so much the better. I like cold weather."
"It snows even very much, Monsieur l'Abbé."
"In that case, my large Polish boots."
"Your large Polish boots! And for what purpose?"
"Not to write a poem in, probably; for if Boileau very sensibly remarked, that in order to write a good poem time and taste were necessary, he did not add that boots were indispensable. Once for all, I want my Polish boots to go out shooting in. Is not that plain enough, Monsieur Mascarille?"