"He is off his head," Gaudissart said to himself. And a sudden pang of
pity for this poor innocent before him brought a tear to the manager's
eyes.
"Ah! you understand, mennesir le directeur! Ver' goot. Dat mann mit
die liddle taughter is Dobinard, vat tidies der orchestra and lights
die lamps. Bons vas fery fond of him, und helped him. He vas der
only von dat accombanied mein only friend to die church und to die
grafe. . . . I vant dree tausend vrancs for him, und dree tausend for
die liddle von--"
"Poor fellow!" said Gaudissart to himself.
Rough, self-made man though he was, he felt touched by this nobleness
of nature, by a gratitude for a mere trifle, as the world views it;
though for the eyes of this divine innocence the trifle, like
Bossuet's cup of water, was worth more than the victories of great
captains. Beneath all Gaudissart's vanity, beneath the fierce desire
to succeed in life at all costs, to rise to the social level of his
old friend Popinot, there lay a warm heart and a kindly nature.
Wherefore he canceled his too hasty judgments and went over to
Schmucke's side.
"You shall have it all! But I will do better still, my dear Schmucke.
Topinard is a good sort--"
"Yes. I haf chust peen to see him in his boor home, vere he ees happy
mit his children--"
"I will give him the cashier's place. Old Baudrand is going to leave."
"Ah! Gott pless you!" cried Schmucke.
"Very well, my good, kind fellow, meet me at Berthier's office about
four o'clock this afternoon.
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