“I don’t see where the great harm comes in! I told him they were preserved pineapples, and they’re turnips; but they can’t hurt him; on the contrary, they’re less heating.” “I am not talking about turnips--I don’t know about that episode, you must tell me about it!--I am talking about the watch and chain and pin; they are all sham, horribly sham; and you had the face to tell me that they were worth eight hundred francs! You robbed me too, you villain!” “It’s very lucky that they weren’t worth as much as that!” replied Poterne coolly; “for, out of the twenty-five hundred francs I got for them, you left me only five hundred to pay the dealer on account, and you’ve never given me the rest since.” “Because I had a sort of presentiment of your knavery! The idea of selling trash, gilded copper, to my young friend! it is infamous!” “Bah! look you, it seems to me that you’ve been living comfortably at your young friend’s expense for eighteen months past.” “Hold your tongue, Poterne, hold your tongue. I am tempted to break every bone in your body, and you deserve it. See what a fine thing you have done in not being content with the honest profits you might have made on such things as you sold Chérubin; now you can never go to his house again. I had thrown open an excellent house to you, and you have closed it by your thirst for gold--and as a result you have injured me considerably. I have derived some profit from your little transactions--and that was no more than fair; as it was I who made you acquainted with this rich youngster.” “Some profit! In other words, you took the whole!” muttered Poterne, with a horrible grimace.