"Good-morning, my dear lady," said Birotteau with a jaunty air.

"_Your_ dear!" she said. "Hey! my son, what's there agreeable between
us? Did we ever mount guard over kings and queens together?"

"I am a perfumer, and what is more I am deputy-mayor of the second
arrondissement; thus, as magistrate and as customer, I request you to
take another tone with me."

"I marry when I please," said the virago. "I don't trouble the mayor,
or bother his deputies. As for my customers, they adore me, and I talk
to 'em as I choose. If they don't like it, they can snake off
elsewhere."

"This is the result of monopoly," thought Birotteau.

"Popole!--that's my godson,--he must have got into mischief. Have you
come about him, my worthy magistrate?" she said, softening her voice.

"No; I had the honor to tell you that I came as a customer."

"Well, well! and what's your name, my lad? Haven't seen you about
before, have I?"

"If you take that tone, you ought to sell your nuts cheap," said
Birotteau, who proceeded to give his name and all his distinctions.

"Ha! you're the Birotteau that's got the handsome wife. And how many
of the sweet little nuts may you want, my love?"