"Well, I have a piece of advice to offer you."
"To offer me?"
"Yes, you."
"Give it me, then," said Rabbe, looking at Brézé over his spectacles, as he was in the habit of doing, when he felt great surprise or people began to bore him.
"Believe me, I speak as a friend."
"I do not doubt it; but what is the advice?"
"Rabbe, my friend, instead of making résumés, write vaudevilles!"
A deep growl sounded from the historian's breast. He seized the offerer of advice by the arm, and in an awful voice he said to him—
"Monsieur, one of my enemies must have sent you to insult me."