gibber in French."

"_Der teufel_!"

"I am not in my boudoir here, I am at the opera. If you were not a
barrel made by Huret or Fichet, metamorphosed into a man by some trick
of nature, you would not make so much noise in a box with a woman who is
fond of music. I don't listen to you? I should think not! There you sit
rustling my dress like a cockchafer in a paper-bag, and making me laugh
with contempt. You say to me, 'You are so pretty, I should like to
eat you!' Old simpleton! Supposing I were to say to you, 'You are
less intolerable this evening than you were yesterday--we will go
home?'--Well, from the way you puff and sigh--for I feel you if I don't
listen to you--I perceive that you have eaten an enormous dinner, and
your digestion is at work. Let me instruct you--for I cost you enough to
give some advice for your money now and then--let me tell you, my dear
fellow, that a man whose digestion is so troublesome as yours is, is not
justified in telling his mistress that she is pretty at unseemly hours.
An old soldier died of that very folly 'in the arms of Religion,' as
Blondet has it.

"It is now ten o'clock. You finished dinner at du Tillet's at nine
o'clock, with your pigeon the Comte de Brambourg; you have millions and
truffles to digest. Come to-morrow night at ten."

"Vat you are cruel!" cried the Baron, recognizing the profound truth of
this medical argument.

"Cruel!" echoed Esther, still looking at Lucien. "Have you not consulted
Bianchon, Desplein, old Haudry?--Since you have had a glimpse of future
happiness, do you know what you seem like to me?"

"No--vat?"

"A fat old fellow wrapped in flannel, who walks every hour from his
armchair to the window to see if the thermometer has risen to the degree
marked '_Silkworms_,' the temperature prescribed by his physician."

"You are really an ungrateful slut!" cried the Baron, in despair at
hearing a tune, which, however, amorous old men not unfrequently hear at
the opera.

"Ungrateful!" retorted Esther. "What have you given me till now? A great
deal of annoyance. Come, papa! Can I be proud of you? You! you are proud
of me; I wear your livery and badge with an air. You paid my debts? So
you did. But you have grabbed so many millions--come, you need not sulk;
you admitted that to me--that you need not think twice of that. And
this is your chief title to fame. A baggage and a thief--a well-assorted
couple!

"You have built a splendid cage for a parrot