Then lo! I heard a husky voice, a swift and silky tread:
"You got so blind, last night, ~mon vieux~, I collared all your cash --
Three hundred francs. . . . There! ~Nom de Dieu~," said Julot the ~apache~.

And that was how I came to know Julot and Gigolette,
And we would talk and drink a ~bock~, and smoke a cigarette.
And I would meditate upon the artistry of crime,
And he would tell of cracking cribs and cops and doing time;
Or else when he was flush of funds he'd carelessly explain
He'd biffed some bloated ~bourgeois~ on the border of the Seine.
So gentle and polite he was, just like a man of peace,
And not a desperado and the terror of the police.

Now one day in a ~bistro~ that's behind the Place Vendo^me
I came on Julot the ~apache~, and Gigolette his ~mome~.
And as they looked so very grave, says I to them, says I,
"Come on and have a little glass, it's good to rinse the eye.
You both look mighty serious; you've something on the heart."
"Ah, yes," said Julot the ~apache~, "we've something to impart.
When such things come to folks like us, it isn't very gay . . .
It's Gigolette -- she tells me that a ~gosse~ is on the way."
Then Gigolette, she looked at me with eyes like stones of gall:
"If we were honest folks," said she, "I wouldn't mind at all.
But then . . . you know the life we lead; well, anyway I mean
(That is, providing it's a girl) to call her Angeline."
"Cheer up," said I; "it's all in life. There's gold within the dross.
Come on, we'll drink another ~verre~ to Angeline the ~gosse~."

And so the weary winter passed, and then one April morn
The worthy Julot came at last to say the babe was born.