in your hand, as you had this morning here! Say, wife, it seems to be his mania to carry packets of woollen stockings into houses!
Old charity monger, get out with you! Are you a hosier, Mister millionnaire?
You give away your stock in trade to the poor, holy man!
What bosh! merry Andrew! Ah! and you don''t recognize me?
Well, I recognize you, that I do! I recognized you the very moment you poked your snout in here. Ah! you''ll find out presently, that it isn''t all roses to thrust yourself in that fashion into people''s houses, under the pretext that they are taverns, in wretched clothes, with the air of a poor man, to whom one would give a sou, to deceive persons, to play the generous, to take away their means of livelihood, and to make threats in the woods, and you can''t call things quits because afterwards, when people are ruined, you bring a coat that is too large, and two miserable hospital blankets, you old blackguard, you child-stealer!"
He paused, and seemed to be talking to himself for a moment. One would have said that his wrath had fallen into some hole, like the Rhone; then, as though he were concluding aloud the things which he had been saying to himself in a whisper, he smote the table with his fist, and shouted:--
"And with his goody-goody air!"
And, apostrophizing M. Leblanc:--
"Parbleu!
You made game of me in the past!