But, my dear Canillac, though we
are such blades, so Marechal de Richelieu, Louis XV., Pompadour,
Madame du Barry, gay dogs, and everything that is most eighteenth
century, there is no longer a lieutenant of police."
"How can we make them love us?" Hulot wondered to himself without
heeding Crevel.
"It is sheer folly in us to expect to be loved, my dear fellow," said
Crevel. "We can only be endured; for Madame Marneffe is a hundred
times more profligate than Josepha."
"And avaricious! she costs me a hundred and ninety-two thousand francs
a year!" cried Hulot.
"And how many centimes!" sneered Crevel, with the insolence of a
financier who scorns so small a sum.
"You do not love her, that is very evident," said the Baron dolefully.
"I have had enough of her," replied Crevel, "for she has had more than
three hundred thousand francs of mine!"
"Where is it? Where does it all go?" said the Baron, clasping his head
in his hands.
"If we had come to an agreement, like the simple young men who combine
to maintain a twopenny baggage, she would have cost us less."
"That is an idea"! replied the Baron. "But she would still be cheating
us; for, my burly friend, what do you say to this Brazilian?"
"Ay, old sly fox, you are right, we are swindled like--like
shareholders!" said Crevel. "All such women are an unlimited
liability, and we the sleeping partners."
"Then it was she who told you about the candle in the window?"
"My good man," replied Crevel, striking an attitude, "she has fooled
us both.
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