This merchant of shoes is not sure, I assure you, with his leg of glass, his eye of wood. He does not have the color of the Rhône, he even has the color yellow, this man. Beware, he is a Chinese. You know what they say about him, about the story of the thief of Horlaloa. It seems that it is a fine blade that would have killed his wife. She said, dying, it's the Chinese. If he gives himself the paternal air, it is that he puts in the lantern all his being and up to the sound of his voice. It is good that we hate him, that we flee him, like the plague, how we must flee, I believe, some Chinese. What does he smoke in his opium pipe? In principle, what he does, the traffic, it goes under. When he says his prayer, sitting on his back, he prays who? The Buddha, a Chinese god. Look, what a place this is, interlop of the gypsies, the Indians of I do not know what. Staying alone, he hurries to read only a press, only a newspaper, the duck in Chinese. He makes their semlage in wrapping paper, he feeds himself with fried rice with small peas. He even tells, he dares to say that he comes from Formosa to convince that he is not a real Chinese. When he puts a plate at the top of a baguette, a plate comes under the dish. She turns in free wheel, kept in balance, it is enough that he shakes his fingers a little. Sometimes he runs the land, having guirlandes that he spreads to the bottom of the small wood. And near the precipice, he shoots a fire of fireworks, shouting, the powder, Chinese invention. Let's do quickly, we hide, a collection, that we buy him, a ticket, emigrants, there are two kings. Let's offer him a passage for Beijing, the wisest for Pantin, at the bottom of the Chinese cartier. Let him go, Ramos goes, the important thing is that he leaves, because if he stays, in ten years, yes my faith, he is able to reach his goal, which is to extinguish on us, and we will be what? All Chinese. Thank you.