“They arrived in a big automobile; I saw them. Conspuez les profiteers!”
“Yes, and they are lodging at the Café de la Victoire.”
Bibi pushed his way to the door, feeling the arms and shoulders of the men. Ledoux was speaking with a snarl in his voice.
“Capitalists, look at them! Fat and rich, blood-suckers, tradesmen. We are monkeys in a cage, are we? Get out!”
He shook his fist at the Hoskyn family, and with outraged ideals they moved on.
“These French are savages!”
“Why—we might be Germans!”
The men at the doorway of the buvette continued to discuss the presence of these English in Beaucourt, and Bibi, leaning a hand on the shoulders of Crapaud and Ledoux, turned their passions towards the Café de la Victoire.
“There you are! What did I tell you? These English pay well, and that is all those two at the café care about. They did not build their place for decent working-men, but to make money out of the rich English and Americans who come to stare at our poverty.”
“You have touched it,” said Crapaud; “Bibi goes straight to the heart of things.”