“Well well, as sure as I’ve a military moustache, I’ll not desert the post.”
“Spoken like a brave sergeant. But, in the meantime, may I offer you something to eat?”
“I’m one of the family already,” thought the sergeant; so he said, “If you sit at the same table.”
“Ah, ah, ah! very good, Sergeant Belcore. Go in, go in.”
She saw Nemorino was coming up to speak to her.
“One little word, Adina.”
“Oh, two little words for Nemorino. The usual sighs, though he had much better go and see his uncle, who is ill—they say very ill.”
“He is not so sick as I am, Adina.”
“And, then, if his uncle dies, he’ll make somebody else his heir.”
“What does that matter to me, Adina?”