“Mon Dieu! don’t mention it! I don’t know what crazy idea came into my head, I who never gave a thought to love, when one day--prout, prout!--it took me like a longing to sneeze; I fancied that I was in love with a young cook who had sometimes asked me the time, then for a light; in short, trifling things which indicated a purpose to scrape an acquaintance. Suzanne was very pretty; yes, she was a superb creature, well put together; I will do justice to her physical charms. She had saved twelve hundred francs by cheating her employers a little in vegetables and butter. I said to myself: ‘That will be enough to set up a nice little tailor’s shop, after the style of the Palais-Royal.’ I offered my hand which she accepted, and we were married; I hired a shop on Boulevard du Pont-aux-Choux, all went well for----” “For several months?” “Prout! you are very polite! For a few days, a week at most. After that my wife complained that I was slow, that I talked too much, that I drank. For my part, I claimed that she ought to do nothing but make buttonholes. She refused to take hold of the buttonholes, and that made me mad; I persisted, she was obstinate, and to make a long story short, we fought! oh! we fought like prize fighters! and once we had got into the habit of it, it was all over, we never missed a single day. Prout! prout! morning and night! you should have seen how we hammered each other!” “Wouldn’t it have been better to leave your wife?” “To be sure it would, and that is what I said to myself; one night when my wife had almost torn off my left ear, I packed up my clothes and I left her.” “Have you seen her since?” “I’m not such a fool. I have no desire to see her again, and for her part I fancy that she isn’t anxious to see me. It’s all over now! To the devil with love! Whether my wife dies or not, it’s all one to me; I shall never marry again.” “You have no children?” “What do you suppose? As if we had time for that when we were always fighting! And faith, I am glad that we hadn’t any; they would have been left on my hands and I should have had to support the brats; and that would be hard for a man who cannot feed himself every day.” “But your wife was faithful to you, at all events?” “Faithful? the devil! as if I paid any attention to that! In fact we only lived together four months, and that didn’t make me rich! For some time past I haven’t had any work at all, and a man’s fingers get stiff doing nothing. But for all that, there’s no reason why you should come here with your purse in your hand!” “Look you, Monsieur Pettermann, I have not made myself understood; I had no intention of insulting you.” “I am not insulted, but----” “I was told that you were without work, and I simply proposed to give you my custom.” “Oh! that makes a difference! your custom, that’s all right.”