human
I ought to break this plate over your head, said Bastringuette;
gpt
Ah! you don't love me any more?
human
No, rejoined Bastringuette, dwelling upon every word.
gpt
I am outspoken. I don't propose to play tricks on you, as you seem to fear. But from this moment I am not your mistress; I take back my liberty.
human
What! do you mean it?
gpt
Oh! I don't make any mystery of it, you see; I say it right out before everybody.
human
But----
gpt
But what? We ain't bound together in such a way that we can't separate. Would you rather have me do like the women in society? stay with you, when I don't love you, and deceive you all day? That ain't my style.
human
If you don't love me any more, then you must love somebody else!
gpt
No matter who I love! it's none of your business! Love whoever you please! I don't care a hair of monsieur's whiskers!
human
All women don't talk that way.
gpt
Ah! so that's how it is! cried Sans-Cravate, emptying his glass; while Bastringuette resumed her seat at the table, apparently much calmer.
human
All right! as you choose! To the devil with love, and women! Let's have a drink, my friends; let's have a drink!
gpt
But it's late, said Paul;
human
I hear them closing downstairs. Aren't we going now, Sans-Cravate?
gpt
Go, if you choose--I am going to stay, with my friends, with my true friends!
human
No; you are going with me; you have had enough to drink; you mustn't get drunk!
gpt
What business is it of yours, if it suits me to get drunk? I'm my own master, too. I haven't any woman now to bother me, and bore me to death. _Crédié!_ how I will make things hum now!
human
That will be very pretty! murmured Bastringuette.
gpt
He'll do some fine things. For my part, I don't want anything more to do with men who make beasts of themselves with drink! I prefer a sober lover--they're more refined in their love making.
human
Drink! drink! more wine, waiter!
gpt
That's the talk! said Jean Ficelle.
human
Sound men never sulk! Let the maggoty ones go! we can do without 'em!
gpt
O my friends! cried Laboussole, in a sentimental tone,
human
You are responsible for Sans-Cravate's getting drunk. He is drinking to forget the grief you have caused him by telling him that you meant to leave him! and it may result in some catastrophe.
gpt
What do I care? I'm done with him. I don't love him any more; I love somebody else, and that somebody else is you.