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"Calm yourself, Bons," exclaimed Schmucke; "ve haf in Zipod ein panker " "Do not speak of it, my lamb. You are our children, both of you," cried La Cibot. "Our savings will be well invested; you are safer than the Bank. So long as we have a morsel of bread, half of it is yours. It is not worth mentioning " "Boor Montame Zipod!" said Schmucke, and he went. Pons said nothing.
"Here ees my scheme I go out mit der master, ve draws der vischtlers on our drack. Montame kan go to Montemoiselle Clerchet; nopody vill vollow her. I haf a horse; I take de master oop behint; und der teufel is in it if they katches us." "Very well; good-bye, dear," said poor Eve, springing to her husband's arms; "none of us can go to see you, the risk is too great.
The Baron gave her sundry rough drafts he had made; Madame de Nucingen read them, and smiled. Then came Esther's third letter. "She is a wonderful girl!" cried the Baroness, when she had read it. "Vat shall I do, montame?" asked the Baron of his wife. "Wait." "Wait? But nature is pitiless!" he cried.
It may readily be conceived that Schmucke listened to this reckoning with amazement, for he knew about as much of business as a cat knows of music. "Montame Zipod," he expostulated, "Bons haf lost his head. Bardon him, and nurse him as before, und pe our profidence; I peg it of you on mine knees," and he knelt before La Cibot and kissed the tormentor's hands.
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