Dumont. Dear me, and on this happy occasion I had registered a vow that every poor traveller should have his keep for nothing, and a pound in his pocket to help him on his journey.
Macaire (aside). A pound in his pocket?
Bertrand (aside). Keep for nothing?
Macaire (aside). Bitten!
Bertrand (aside). Sold again!
Dumont. I will send you what we have: poor fare, perhaps, for gentlemen like you.
SCENE V
Macaire, Bertrand; afterwards Charles, who appears on the gallery, and comes down
Bertrand. I told you so. Why will you fly so high?
Macaire. Bertrand, don’t crush me. A pound: a fortune! With a pound to start upon—two pounds, for I’d have borrowed yours—three months from now I might have been driving in my barouche, with you behind it, Bertrand, in a tasteful livery.