“Oh, yes! the means you use are very nice! I advise you to boast of them; you ought to be ashamed of them! a man with an education, who has clerks under him, in an office, to raise his hand to his wife! Yes, Monsieur Malberg, I don’t blush to confess that Monsieur Baudoin has the baseness to strike me! that’s a nice thing to do, ain’t it?” But the man to whom these questions were addressed, observing that no one thought of giving him his light, pushed open the door of the lodge, took his candlestick, lighted the candle with a piece of paper, and went upstairs without another word to the concierge and his wife, who continued their conversation. “Well, Hildegarde, do you see what you’ve done? Here’s Monsieur Malberg had to light his candle himself! what will he think of us?” “Oh! I don’t care what he thinks! he’s an agreeable man, that tenant! a fellow who never talks, who hardly answers when you speak to him, and always in a short, surly tone, as if he was always angry!” “It is true that he seldom laughs; but still perhaps that’s his nature; there are people who enjoy being dismal. However, he’s a man who occupies an apartment at eleven hundred francs, and who pays on the dot, without having to be reminded that it is rent day, and who has very handsome furniture, and mirrors in every room, so that the proprietor has a very high regard for him.” “Oh! I don’t say that he’s a vagabond! but why doesn’t he keep a maid, who’d come to our lodge in the evening and talk, as decent people always do, instead of that miserable blackamoor, that yellow negro, who doesn’t know how to do anything but wax his floor and polish his boots? as if you could call that a servant! He ought to hire me to do his housework; that’s my line!” “You forget, Hildegarde, that the landlord doesn’t want you to do housework. Of course, if you went away while I am at my office, there wouldn’t be anybody but the cat to look after the lodge and answer questions!” “A fine job this is, where the concierge’s wife isn’t allowed to do housework! That was my only ambition.” “Oh, yes! the fact is that you were the cause of our being discharged from the lodge we had before this, because you did housework for the men on the fourth floor and drank all their liquor.” “That isn’t true, it’s a slander!” “Let’s not go back to that. I am mortified that Monsieur Malberg had to light his candle himself; it’s a stain upon our good name.” “Well then, you ought to have lighted it for him, if you have that on your conscience!” “Hold your tongue, Hildegarde; you’re very unreasonable to-night, you have something bad to say about everybody. You find fault because Monsieur Malberg has a yellow negro to work for him, and you don’t seem to know that that is very distinguished. Swell people always have colored servants in their employ.” “It’s a miserable fashion. But still, if that miserable Pingo or Ponceau--I never know what his name is--was only agreeable.” “Pongo!”