Bertrand (seeing Charles). Lord, a policeman!
Macaire. Steady! What is a policeman? Justice’s blind eye. (To Charles.) I think, sir, you are in the force?
Charles. I am, sir, and it was in that character—
Macaire. Ah, sir, a fine service!
Charles. It is, sir, and if your papers—
Macaire. You become your uniform. Have you a mother? Ah, well, well!
Charles. My duty, sir—
Macaire. They tell me one Macaire—is not that his name, Bertrand?—has broken jail at Lyons?
Charles. He has, sir, and it is precisely for that reason—
Macaire. Well, good-bye. (Shaking Charles by the hand and leading him towards the door, L. U. E.) Sweet spot, sweet spot. The scenery is . . . (kisses his finger-tips. Exit Charles). And now, what is a policeman?