human
They ain't sweet enough for him.
gpt
Perhaps his skirt cutter don't like the taste of garlic!
human
I say, comrade, you don't keep up your end! cried Sans-Cravate, forcing Paul to let him fill his glass.
gpt
Don't you enjoy being with your friends?
human
There's no doubt about it, said Jean Ficelle;
gpt
Paul's acting damned queer. Anyone would say that it made him sore to be at the wine shop with us.
human
Why do you attribute such thoughts to me? rejoined Paul;
gpt
You say you don't come to the wine shop often? cried Laboussole, eating his sausage with great zest.
human
You make a mistake, young man; the wine shop's the only place where one can enjoy life. It's the rendezvous of good company. I'd like never to leave it, myself!
gpt
Oho! cried Sans-Cravate, emptying his glass;
human
It's all a mistake,
gpt
I've got good eyes, myself, said Laboussole, tilting his remnant of a hat over one ear.
human
Yes, I saw our friend, not more than a week ago, in the Marais, and he was dressed a good deal like a wholesale grocer.
gpt
Aha! aha! said Bastringuette, fastening her great black eyes on Paul's face;
human
I am nothing more than I appear to be, replied Paul, with a sigh;
gpt
That may be! What is there surprising in that? A man goes out for a stroll, and stops in front of any show he sees. That's the way we sail down the river of life.
human
Come, let's drink and sing! cried Sans-Cravate.
gpt
What's the odds how a man's dressed, or where he walks? Ain't we our own masters? ain't liberty as much for one man as another?
human
That's my opinion, replied Laboussole, holding out his glass, the contents of which he swallowed with the facility of an Englishman drinking champagne.
gpt
You're what I call a man, you are, Sans-Cravate! and I'm your friend from this minute.
human
I don't doubt it! muttered Bastringuette;