The illustrious Gaudissart returned to the Soleil d'Or, where he naturally conversed with the landlord while waiting for dinner.
Mitouflet was an old soldier, guilelessly crafty, like the peasantry of the Loire; he never laughed at a jest, but took it with the gravity of a man accustomed to the roar of cannon and to make his own jokes under arms.
"You have some very strong-minded people here," said Gaudissart, leaning against the door-post and lighting his cigar at Mitouflet's pipe.
"How do you mean?" asked Mitouflet.
"I mean people who are rough-shod on political and financial ideas.""Whom have you seen? if I may ask without indiscretion," said the landlord innocently, expectorating after the adroit and periodical fashion of smokers.
"A fine, energetic fellow named Margaritis."
Mitouflet cast two glances in succession at his guest which were expressive of chilling irony.
"May be; the good-man knows a deal. He knows too much for other folks, who can't always understand him.""I can believe it, for he thoroughly comprehends the abstruse principles of finance.""Yes," said the innkeeper, "and for my part, I am sorry he is a lunatic.""A lunatic! What do you mean?"
"Well, crazy,--cracked, as people are when they are insane," answered Mitouflet. "But he is not dangerous; his wife takes care of him. Have you been arguing with him?" added the pitiless landlord; "that must have been funny!""Funny!" cried Gaudissart. "Funny! Then your Monsieur Vernier has been ****** fun of me!""Did he send you there?"
"Yes."
"Wife! wife! come here and listen. If Monsieur Vernier didn't take it into his head to send this gentleman to talk to Margaritis!""What in the world did you say to each other, my dear, good Monsieur?"said the wife. "Why, he's crazy!"
"He sold me two casks of wine."
"Did you buy them?"
"Yes."
"But that is his delusion; he thinks he sells his wine, and he hasn't any.""Ha!" snorted the traveller, "then I'll go straight to Monsieur Vernier and thank him."And Gaudissart departed, boiling over with rage, to shake the ex-dyer, whom he found in his salon, laughing with a company of friends to whom he had already recounted the tale.
"Monsieur," said the prince of travellers, darting a savage glance at his enemy, "you are a scoundrel and a blackguard; and under pain of being thought a turn-key,--a species of being far below a galley-slave,--you will give me satisfaction for the insult you dared to offer me in sending me to a man whom you knew to be a lunatic! Do you hear me, Monsieur Vernier, dyer?"Such was the harangue which Gaudissart prepared as he went along, as a tragedian makes ready for his entrance on the scene.
"What!" cried Vernier, delighted at the presence of an audience, "do you think we have no right to make fun of a man who comes here, bag and baggage, and demands that we hand over our property because, forsooth, he is pleased to call us great men, painters, artists, poets,--mixing us up gratuitously with a set of fools who have neither house nor home, nor sous nor sense? Why should we put up with a rascal who comes here and wants us to feather his nest by subscribing to a newspaper which preaches a new religion whose first doctrine is, if you please, that we are not to inherit from our fathers and mothers?
On my sacred word of honor, Pere Margaritis said things a great deal more sensible. And now, what are you complaining about? You and Margaritis seemed to understand each other. The gentlemen here present can testify that if you had talked to the whole canton you couldn't have been as well understood.""That's all very well for you to say; but I have been insulted, Monsieur, and I demand satisfaction!""Very good, Monsieur! consider yourself insulted, if you like. I shall not give you satisfaction, because there is neither rhyme nor reason nor satisfaction to be found in the whole business. What an absurd fool he is, to be sure!"At these words Gaudissart flew at the dyer to give him a slap on the face, but the listening crowd rushed between them, so that the illustrious traveller only contrived to knock off the wig of his enemy, which fell on the head of Mademoiselle Clara Vernier.