I was about to reply when I saw twenty shut fists behind the abbé, and twenty threatening faces making significant gestures at me. I uttered a howl, at which the abbé turned round: immediately all the faces smiled, all the hands were returned to their pockets.
"But what is the matter with him?" asked the abbé.
"We don't know," replied the hypocrites; "he has been going on like that ever since he came."
"What! he has cried ever since he came?"
"Yes, indeed he has. Hasn't he? hasn't he? hasn't he?"
"Yes! yes! yes!" all the voices responded. "Dumas is crying."
"Come, what are you crying for, Dumas?"
"Oh!" replied one of them who knew the tradition, "Dumas is probably crying because 'Dumas has tears'—"
This mocking remark infuriated me.
"No!" I cried, "no, I am not crying because I have tears; I am crying because—because—because they have made water on my head, there!"