poor fellow must earn his living somehow. If I were not a cripple, I would work. But what harm do I do to anyone in the world by my singing? What does it mean? The rich can live as they wish, un pauvre tiaple like myself can’t live at all. What kind of laws are these republican ones? If that is the way they run, then we don’t want a republic: isn’t that so, my dear sir? We don’t want a republic, but we want—we simply want—we want”—he hesitated a little—“we want natural laws.”
I filled up his glass. “You are not drinking,” I said.
He took the glass in his hand, and bowed to me.
“I know what you wish,” he said, blinking his eyes at me, and threatening me with his finger. “You wish to make me drunk, so as to see what you can get out of me; but no, you shan’t have that gratification.”
“Why should I make you drunk?” I inquired. “All I wished was to give you a pleasure.”
He seemed really sorry that he had offended me by interpreting my insistence so harshly. He grew confused, stood up, and touched my elbow.
“No, no,” said he, looking at me with a beseeching expression in his moist eyes. “I was only joking.”
And immediately after he made use of some horribly uncultivated slang expression, intended to signify that I was, nevertheless, a fine young man. “ Je ne vous dis que ça ,” he said in conclusion. In this fashion the minstrel and I continued to drink and converse; and the waiters continued unceremoniously to stare at us, and, as it seemed, to make ridicule of us.
In spite of the interest which our conversation aroused in me, I could not avoid taking notice of their behavior; and I confess I began to grow more and more angry.