[Shrugging his ragged shoulders.] One is not yet Rothschild.
WELLWYN. [Sympathetically.] No. [Yielding to memory.] We talked
philosophy.
FERRAND. I have not yet changed my opinion. We other vagabonds, we
are exploited by the bourgeois. This is always my idea, Monsieur.
WELLWYN. Yes--not quite the general view, perhaps! Well----
[Heartily.] Come in! Very glad to see you again.
FERRAND. [Brushing his arms over his eyes.] Pardon, Monsieur--your
goodness--I am a little weak. [He opens his coat, and shows a belt
drawn very tight over his ragged shirt.] I tighten him one hole for
each meal, during two days now. That gives you courage.
WELLWYN. [With cooing sounds, pouring out tea, and adding rum.] Have
some of this. It'll buck you up. [He watches the young man drink.]
FERRAND. [Becoming a size larger.] Sometimes I think that I will
never succeed to dominate my life, Monsieur--though I have no vices,
except that I guard always the aspiration to achieve success. But I
will not roll myself under the machine of existence to gain a nothing
every day. I must find with what to fly a little.
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