This habit of never being without his pipe had filed a hollow between Mocquet's incisors and canine teeth: it had also led to another habit, that of speaking through his shut teeth, which gave a peculiarly impressive character to all he said; for nothing prevented his teeth from keeping tight shut.
"How long have you been nightmared, my poor Mocquet?" my father asked.
"For a whole week, General."
"By whom?"
"Oh! I know well enough who it is," he replied, shutting his teeth tighter than ever.
"Indeed, may I know who it is?"
"That old witch, mother Durand, General!"
"Mother Durand of Haramont?"
"Yes, hard enough."
"The deuce, Mocquet—we must look into this!"