"It is a matter of very great importance."
"So is mine," declared M. Chebe, his three hairs standing erect like a porcupine's quills.
As he spoke, he took his seat on the bench beside Delobelle, ordered a pitcher and two glasses as the former had done, then sat erect with his hands in his pockets and his back against the wall, waiting in his turn. The two empty glasses in front of them, intended for the same absentee, seemed to be hurling defiance at each other.
But Risler did not come.
The two men, drinking in silence, lost their patience and fidgeted about on the bench, each hoping that the other would tire of waiting.
At last their ill-humor overflowed, and naturally poor Risler received the whole flood.
"What an outrage to keep a man of my years waiting so long!" began M.
Chebe, who never mentioned his great age except upon such occasions.
"I believe, on my word, that he is making sport of us," replied M.
Delobelle.
And the other:
"No doubt Monsieur had company to dinner."