"Ah, my boy," he said, "don't think that it's only poor beggars like me who're sent to quod: I have seen there many a gentleman--yes, _gentleman_," he repeated, as I was smiling--"gentlemen, like you, who drove in their own cart; but that's neither here nor there. There's one thing certain: _Y a pas d'justice en France, ma vieille!_" (There is no justice in France, old chap.) "One day, for instance," he went on, "I had been with some friends to the _Théâtre de la Villette_ (a small suburban theatre), and being a bit of an artist myself--I have been a super at the Porte St. Martin[20]--I became disgusted at the way one of the fellows played Taillhade's part. Instead of walking like a nobleman of the old times, and taking off his hat with a great sweep of the arm and bowing like a prince, that actor chap just walks in like if he had stepped into the café at the corner, and he takes his hat off like if it had been a billycock; I got that disgusted that I couldn't help shouting: '_Ah! malheur d'ons que tu sors?_' (Good gracious, where do you hail from?) Chambardeau, the grocer's assistant, then says to me: '_Tais donc ta sale gueule, Titi!_' (Shut up your ugly mug, Titi!) 'Ugly mug,' I says; 'what d'ye call that filthy beak of yours?' (_Ton sal museau._) 'All right,' howls Chambardeau, 'I'll smash that phiz of yours[21] when we get out.' That was too much for me, so I jumps at him; all the people shout, 'Turn them out!' The police comes and chucks us out, and the other boys, guessing there'll be a row outside, follers us. Well, we first kick up a row to get our money returned; but it was no good, and the _sergots_[22] chucks us into the street: Chambardeau and me we goes into a side street to have it out. On the way Chambardeau pulls his knife out of his pocket. 'Knives?' I ask. 'Yes, knives,' he says. 'All right, _mon salop_,'[23] I reply, 'I'll soon rip open your tripe-bag.' Some of the boys had joined us, and told us that the police were not likely to come, so Chambardeau he says: 'Are you ready?' 'Yes,' I says, and we close. Just then Mimi--she was the grocer's daughter, and she was sweet on me, you know--'twas that which made Chambardeau mad with me. Well, Mimi turns up. They'd gone and told her, some of the other chaps, and when she sees us going at it with knives she hollers, 'Murder! Murder! Police!' The _sergots_ come at a run, and just then Chambardeau he drops down. The _sergots_ arrest me--the cowards! There was four of them. They knock me down and kick me all over, then they clasp the bracelets (handcuffs) on my wrists, while the others pick up Chambardeau. 'What's the row?' one of the _sergots_ asks of him. 'Row?' he says; 'there's no row.' 'But,' says a _sergot_, 'you are wounded.' 'Am I?' says Chambardeau. 'I suppose that I fell on my open knife while I was playing with Titi.' He was a d---- sneak, Chambardeau was, but he never split on a pal. Well, they took us both