human
You damned little fool, I'm not worth it!
gpt
Every great man has his fool--alors!
human
Jacques, Gaston presently said,
gpt
I saw--last night, monsieur,
human
You saw what?
gpt
I saw you in the court-yard with the lady.
human
Did you recognise her?
gpt
No: she moved all as a spirit.
human
Jacques, that matter is between you and me. I'm going to tell you, though, two things; and--where's your string of beads?
gpt
That's all right. Mum as Manitou! She was asleep; she is my sister. And that is all, till there's need for you to know more.
human
he laid a finger familiarly in Gaston's button-hole. Jacques, who was present, smiled, for he knew every change in his master's face, and he saw a glitter in his eye. He remembered when they two were in trouble with a gang of river-drivers, and one did this same thing rudely: how Gaston looked down, and said, with a devilish softness:
gpt
Take it away.
human
If you please!
gpt
That's a trifle vague, Belward.
human
How can one treat him with importance?
gpt
He's the sort that makes a noise one way or another.
human
Yes. Obituary: 'At his residence in Babbslow Square, yesterday, Sir S. G. Babbs, M. P., member of the London County Council. Sir S. G. Babbs, it will be remembered, gave L100,000 to build a home for the propagation of Vice, and--'
gpt
That's droll!
human
Why not Vice? 'Twould be just the same in his mind. He doesn't give from a sense of moral duty. Not he; he's a bungowawen!
gpt
What is that?
human
That's Indian. You buy a lot of Indian or halfbreed loafers with beaver-skins and rum, go to the Mount of the Burning Arrows, and these fellows dance round you and call you one of the lost race, the Mighty Men of the Kimash Hills. And they'll do that while the rum lasts. Meanwhile you get to think yourself a devil of a swell--you and the gods! . . . And now we had better listen to this bungowawen, hadn't we?