“Have you come to order trousers or a coat?” continued my neighbor. “It is just, the right time, for I have nothing to do, and I will make ‘em up for you at once, and in the latest style, although that miserable concierge presumed to complain of my skill. The idiot! he wanted me to make a new coat for his son out of an old pair of breeches that had already been turned three times.” “I have not come for a coat or a waistcoat, but to make a request of you.” “A request?” “You sing a great deal, monsieur.” “Parbleu! I have nothing else to do.” “You sing very well, certainly.” “Yes, I have some voice; we Germans are all musicians; it is born in us.” “I know it; but do you think that for a person who works with his brain, who is obliged to think, to reflect, it is very pleasant to hear someone singing all the time?” “What has all that got to do with me?” “Look you, monsieur, I will come to the point; your singing inconveniences and annoys me; and if you would be obliging enough to sing less, or not so loud, I would beg you to take this as a slight token of my gratitude.” I had taken my purse from my pocket and I was looking about for something to put it on, which was hard to find, unless I should put it on the floor, when the tailor, who had abruptly left the window and begun to dance about the room, strode toward me with a frown. “I say, monsieur from below, who don’t like music, do I look to you like a man who asks alms? Who gave you leave to come to my room and insult me? Has Pettermann ever been called a beggar?” “Pettermann!” I said, looking at him more carefully; “is your name Pettermann?” “Schnick Pettermann, journeyman tailor from the age of fifteen. I have never succeeded in getting to be a master tailor. It isn’t my fault. Well, when will you finish staring me out of countenance?” “Yes, I know now; you used to live on Rue Meslay.” “I think so, but I have moved so often that I can hardly remember all the rooms that I have occupied!” “Don’t you remember that little room that you used to climb into so often through the window in the roof, after breaking the glass, because you had lost your key?” “Ah! I remember now, there was a broad gutter; it was very convenient, I used to walk on it.” “And that young neighbor of yours in whose room you used to light your candle?” “Little Marguerite--ah, yes! I recognize you now. You were my neighbor’s lover.” “Oh, no! I was only her friend; but I used to go there often, and we used to hear you come in. Ah! how happy I was in those days!” “You were happy when I broke the window? Did that amuse you?” “It seems that I must always happen on something to remind me of that time, although I try to avoid it. However, I am glad to see you.” “You are very good, monsieur. That must be at least five years ago, more than five years, in fact, and I wasn’t married then.” “Ah! have you been married since?”