Oh, pleasant France! beloved France! When I say France, I mean Paris. Paris, with its _bals-musard_! Paris, with its _rendezvous_ on the Boulevards and in the Bois de Boulogne! Paris, with its _limonadières_, _fruitières_, _bouquetières_, and all other _ières_!
[_Begins to recite, with exaggerated action._]
“O France! O precious land! O paradise o’ the world! I greet thee, though the marsh and mud ... marsh and mud....”
... well, never mind; I shall hit it some other time. How is one to find a rhyme to “world”? I ought to have begun differently. But what I mean is, that if ever I find myself mixed up in this _fâcheuse affaire_ of the cheques, I shall at once make my native country a present of my citizenship, and take shares in France. Then I shall have the right of being attended to by a French court, take a few _circonstances atténuantes_ with me, and Frans is all right—quits the court without a stain on his character!
A greater fool than that young Huser I never saw in all my born days. Who ever heard of a man letting himself be ill-treated in the place of another? I never could understand that story. The imbecile! I wish I knew where to find him; I should go to him, and say, “Huser, my dear boy, we’ve made a mistake again about a signature or two; do make yourself responsible for the error—there’s a good fellow.” I believe, upon my soul! the man would be fool enough to do it over again. I can’t explain the matter, but I dare swear that Huser, in spite of his sour face, was the most faithful chum in the world. I would bet something that he had been brought up at Paris, or at least had a French nurse or a Swiss _bonne_. Sacrifices like that it would be vain to look for elsewhere ... [_A knock at the door._] Ho, hey! _entrez_.
[_Sits down on a chair in the middle of the stage, stretching his legs straight out in front of him._]
Look here now, Frans, you must represent your master, the noble and honourable gentleman, Jonkheer Karel Bernhard Anton Jozef Delmare Van Bergen Van Wiesendaal! (_Raises his voice._) _Entrez!_
_Enter_ GENERAL VAN WELLER, _in undress uniform, with a riding-whip in his hand_.
_Frans_ (_without looking round_). Who’s there?
_Van Weller._ Look round, and perhaps you’ll know.