Vermichel fulfilled the combined functions of porter at the town-hall,
drummer, jailer, musician, and practitioner, was taken care of by
Madame Vermichel, an alarming antagonist of Rabelaisian philosophy.
This virago with moustachios, about one yard in width and one hundred
and twenty kilograms in weight (but very active), ruled Vermichel with
a rod of iron. Thrashed by her when drunk, he allowed her to thrash
him still when sober; which caused Pere Fourchon to say, with a sniff
at Vermichel's clothes, "It is the livery of a slave."

"Talk of the sun and you'll see its beams," cried Fourchon, repeating
a well-worn allusion to the rutilant face of Vermichel, which really
did resemble those copper suns painted on tavern signs in the
provinces. "Has Mam Vermichel spied too much dust on your back, that
you're running away from your four-fifths,--for I can't call her your
better half, that woman! What brings you here at this hour,
drum-major?"

"Politics, always politics," replied Vermichel, who seemed accustomed
to such pleasantries.

"Ah! business is bad in Blangy, and there'll be notes to protest, and
writs to issue," remarked Pere Fourchon, filling a glass for his
friend.

"That APE of ours is right behind me," replied Vermichel, with a
backward gesture.

In workmen's slang "ape" meant master. The word belonged to the
dictionary of the worthy pair.