“It’s quite simple. Before anything else, I should give Poland her independence again, and I should establish a great Scandinavian state to keep the Giant of the North at bay. Then I should make a republic out of all the little German states. As for England, she’s scarcely to be feared; if she budged ever so little I should send a hundred thousand men to India. Add to that I should send the Sultan back to Mecca and the Pope to Jerusalem, belaboring their backs with the butt end of a rifle. Eh? Europe would soon be clean. Come, Badingue, just look here.” He paused to take five or six jujubes in his hand. “Why, it wouldn’t take longer than to swallow these.” And he threw one jujube after another into his open mouth. “The Emperor has another plan,” said the policeman, after reflecting for a couple of minutes. “Oh, forget it,” rejoined the hatter. “We know what his plan is. All Europe is laughing at us. Every day the Tuileries footmen find your boss under the table between a couple of high society floozies.” Poisson rose to his feet. He came forward and placed his hand on his heart, saying: “You hurt me, Auguste. Discuss, but don’t involve personalities.” Thereupon Virginie intervened, bidding them stop their row. She didn’t care a fig for Europe. How could two men, who shared everything else, always be disputing about politics? For a minute they mumbled some indistinct words. Then the policeman, in view of showing that he harbored no spite, produced the cover of his little box, which he had just finished; it bore the inscription in marquetry: “To Auguste, a token of friendship.” Lantier, feeling exceedingly flattered, lounged back and spread himself out so that he almost sat upon Virginie. And the husband viewed the scene with his face the color of an old wall and his bleared eyes fairly expressionless; but all the same, at moments the red hairs of his moustaches stood up on end of their own accord in a very singular fashion, which would have alarmed any man who was less sure of his business than the hatter.