"And what of the Neapolitan hussy and your goings on in the Café de la Légion?" she asked.
"To Hell with the putain," he almost shouted. "I am like other men—and I have been to her dive like the rest. Marry me and save me from this loose irregular soldier's life. Do you think I would stray from thee, Beloved, if thou wert mine?"
"Not twice," said Madame.
"Then away with this jealousy," replied the ardent Luigi. "Let me announce our nuptials here and now, and call upon my comrades-in-arms to drink long life and happiness to my beauteous bride—whom they all so chastely love and revere. Come, little Star of my Soul! Come, carissima, and I will most solemnly swear upon the Holy Cross that never, never, never again will I darken the doors of the casse-croûte of that girl of the Bazaar. I swear it, Véronique—so help me God and all the Holy Saints—your husband will die before he will set foot in Carmelita's brothel."
"Come," said the drunken man, with a little piteous moan. "Could you carry me out, Signor? I am going to faint."
The Bucking Bronco gathered Carmelita up in his arms and strode toward the door.
"’Ere 'old on," ejaculated 'Erb. "’Arf a mo'! I'll tike 'is 'oofs.…"
"Stay whar yew are, 'Erb," said the American sternly, over his shoulder.
"Right-o, ole bloke," agreed 'Erb, always willing to oblige. "Right-o! Shove 'im in 'is kip[1] while I 'soop 'is bare.'"[2]
Outside, the Bucking Bronco set Carmelita down
