Here Saint-Arthur paused, because his neighbor was eyeing him in such a peculiar way that it began to take away his self-possession.
"Have you finished?" asked Roncherolle, rolling his chair nearer to Saint-Arthur.
"Why, yes, I believe that I have said all that I had to say."
"Then it is my turn. In the first place, where did you think you were going, when you came in here?"
"Where did I think I was going? that's a funny question! Why, I thought that I could not have made a mistake; I knew that I was going to my neighbor's room."
"No, monsieur, when you came in here, you evidently thought that you were going into a stable, for you didn't bow and you kept your hat on your head."
"Oh! that is possible, monsieur, and----"
"When anyone comes into my room, monsieur, I propose, I demand that he shall take off his hat. Come! take yours off at once!"
"What! take my hat off? But suppose I----"
"Suppose you don't choose to? Well, in that case I will just take it off myself, and it won't take long!"
Roncherolle grasped his cane, raised it quickly, and aimed at his fashionable neighbor's head; but he, seeing the gesture, very quickly snatched off his hat, while a shudder of ill augury ran through his frame.
"Now I am going to answer your nonsense, for you haven't said anything else since you came in. I didn't send word to you that you mustn't teach your parrot. In the first place, I am too well-bred, monsieur, I know too much, to employ such terms to a man whom I suppose to be well-bred also; I sent to you a request to suspend your lessons while I am suffering from the gout, because that terrible disease often forces me to pass whole nights without sleep; so that it is very natural that I should wish to enjoy a little repose during the day; and instead of acceding to my request, which a courteous man would have done, monsieur enters my room as if it were a public square, he calls me his 'old man,' and a marmotte, and threatens me with his wrath if I venture to complain again!--Do you know, monsieur, that it is doubly cowardly to insult an old man who is ill and cannot defend himself?"
Little Saint-Arthur, who felt very ill at ease, and had lost all his swagger, replied in a faltering voice: