Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/90

“No, no,” resumed Monsicur Mouton; “Murat, for I saw his funeral when I was quite a child—”

“But I assure you—”

“They even brought out a piece at the Circus about him, so there.”

“Exactly,” said Rodolphe, “that was Murat.”

“Well, what else have I been saying for an hour past?” exclaimed the obstinate Mouton. “Murat, who used to work in a cellar, eh? Well, to put a case. Were not the Bourbons right to guillotine him, since he had played the traitor?”

“Guillotine who? Play the traitor to whom?” cried Rodolphe, button-holing Monsieur Mouton in turn.

“Why Marat.”

“No, no, Monsieur Mouton. Murat, let us understand one another, hang it all!”

“Precisely, Marat, a scoundrel. He betrayed the Emperor in 1815. That is why I say all the papers are alike,” continued Monsieur Mouton, returning to the original theme of what he called an explanation. “ Do you know what I should like, Monsieur Rodolphe? Well, to put a case. I should like a good paper. Ah! not too large and not stuffed with phrases.”

“You are exacting,” interrupted Rodolphe; “a newspaper without phrases!”

“Yes, certainly. Follow my idea?”

“I am trying to.”

“A paper which should simply give the state of the King’s health and of the crops. For after all, what is the use of all your papers that no one can understand? To put a case. I am at the town hall, am I not? I keep my books; very good. Well, it is just as if someone came to me and said, ‘Monsieur Mouton, you enter the deaths—well, do this, do that.’ What do you mean by