There is nothing but your excellency's
horse, the sentinel, the lady upstairs, and my wife.
NAPOLEON. Kill your wife.
GIUSEPPE. Willingly, your excellency; but unhappily I am not
strong enough. She would kill me.
NAPOLEON. That will do equally well.
GIUSEPPE. Your excellency does me too much honor. (Stretching his
hand toward the flask.) Perhaps some wine will answer your
excellency's purpose.
NAPOLEON (hastily protecting the flask, and becoming quite
serious). Wine! No: that would be waste. You are all the same:
waste! waste! waste! (He marks the map with gravy, using his fork
as a pen.) Clear away. (He finishes his wine; pushes back his
chair; and uses his napkin, stretching his legs and leaning back,
but still frowning and thinking.)
GIUSEPPE (clearing the table and removing the things to a tray on
the sideboard). Every man to his trade, excellency. We innkeepers
have plenty of cheap wine: we think nothing of spilling it. You
great generals have plenty of cheap blood: you think nothing of
spilling it. Is it not so, excellency?
NAPOLEON. Blood costs nothing: wine costs money.
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