tear up your shirt, cut up your sheet to make a rope, punch holes in doors, get up false papers, make false keys, file your irons, hang out your cord, hide yourself, and disguise yourself!
The old fellow hasn''t managed to play it, he doesn''t understand how to work the business."
Babet added, still in that classical slang which was spoken by Poulailler and Cartouche, and which is to the bold, new, highly colored and risky argot used by Brujon what the language of Racine is to the language of Andre Chenier:--
"Your tavern-keeper must have been nabbed in the act.
You have to be knowing.
He''s only a greenhorn.
He must have let himself be taken in by a bobby, perhaps even by a sheep who played it on him as his pal.
Listen, Montparnasse, do you hear those shouts in the prison? You have seen all those lights.
He''s recaptured, there!
He''ll get off with twenty years.
I ain''t afraid, I ain''t a coward, but there ain''t anything more to do, or otherwise they''d lead us a dance.
Don''t get mad, come with us, let''s go drink a bottle of old wine together."
"One doesn''t desert one''s friends in a scrape," grumbled Montparnasse.
"I tell you he''s nabbed!" retorted Brujon.
"At the present moment, the inn-keeper ain''t worth a ha''penny. We can''t do nothing for him. Let''s be off.
Every minute I think a bobby has got me in his fist."