“I!” cried Schmucke, springing to his feet, “vy!—­”

“Come, then, you have none to come after you either, eh?  You both sprung up out of the earth like mushrooms—­”

“Look here, komm mit me,” said Schmucke.  The good German manfully took Mme. Cibot by the waist and carried her off into the next room, in spite of her exclamations.

“At your age, you would not take advantage of a defenceless woman!” cried La Cibot, struggling in his arms.

“Don’t make a noise!”

“You too, the better one of the two!” returned La Cibot.  “Ah! it is my fault for talking about love to two old men who have never had nothing to do with women.  I have roused your passions,” cried she, as Schmucke’s eyes glittered with wrath.  “Help! help! police!”

“You are a stoopid!” said the German.  “Look here, vat tid de toctor say?”

“You are a ruffian to treat me so,” wept La Cibot, now released,—­“me that would go through fire and water for you both!  Ah! well, well, they say that that is the way with men—­and true it is!  There is my poor Cibot, he would not be rough with me like this. . . .  And I treated you like my children, for I have none of my own; and yesterday, yes, only yesterday I said to Cibot, ’God knew well what He was doing, dear,’ I said, ’when He refused us children, for I have two children there upstairs.’  By the holy crucifix and the soul of my mother, that was what I said to him—­”

“Eh! but vat did der doctor say?” Schmucke demanded furiously, stamping on the floor for the first time in his life.

“Well,” said Mme. Cibot, drawing Schmucke into the dining-room, “he just said this—­that our dear, darling love lying ill there would die if he wasn’t carefully nursed; but I am here, in spite of all your brutality, for brutal you were, you that I thought so gentle.  And you are one of that sort!  Ah! now, you would not abuse a woman at your age, great blackguard—­”

“Placard?  I?  Vill you not oonderstand that I lof nopody but Bons?”

“Well and good, you will let me alone, won’t you?” said she, smiling at Schmucke.  “You had better; for if Cibot knew that anybody had attempted his honor, he would break every bone in his skin.”

“Take crate care of him, dear Montame Zipod,” answered Schmucke, and he tried to take the portress’ hand.

“Oh! look here now, again.”

“Chust listen to me.  You shall haf all dot I haf, gif ve safe him.”

“Very well; I will go round to the chemist’s to get the things that are wanted; this illness is going to cost a lot, you see, sir, and what will you do?”

“I shall vork; Bons shall be nursed like ein brince.”

“So he shall, M. Schmucke; and look here, don’t you trouble about nothing.  Cibot and I, between us, have saved a couple of thousand francs; they are yours; I have been spending money on you this long time, I have.”