your service … You were talking about the great self-denial of Dobouziez?"
"No, that's too much for me!… One isn't honest to that point."
"Honest!" sneered Brullekens, the maniac who had his small change cleaned every morning; "you would use another word, eh, Fuchskopf?"
"That Taelmans-Teynze, vot a queer chap he iss! An artist! Dummes Zeug! hauler Schweinerei! Yes, you're lying!"
"Always explicit, these Teutons!… But, De Zater, to come back to Lucretia and her admirer …" "What is that cartridge transaction?"
"Some highway robbery at the least!"
"Not bad, that!"
"Well, this is what it is: Béjard, the unique Béjard, himself and always himself, has just bought from the last Chilian dictator, and through the agency of and in partnership with Senor Vera-Pinto, a balance of fifty million cartridges, withdrawn from use as a consequence of the reforms of their armament. It appears that the worthy pair of friends acquired these refuse munitions for a song … But our clever Béjard counts on selling separately the powder, fulminate, lead and copper that he will get out of those cartridges, and realizing on the deal the neat profit of over five hundred per cent."
"A stroke of genius!" decided all these players of neat strokes, with as much admiration as envy; they were constantly on the scent of an opportunity to make fortunes over night, but never had such a simple means occurred to them. Decidedly, Béjard might be a scoundrel, but he was confoundedly clever, and could teach them all a thing or two!
