"Well, of all the d——d idiots that ever...." swore Pythagoras, in his shrillest tones.
Even Socrates pulled himself together in order to declare emphatically that Diogenes was a confounded fool.
"I pray thee raise thy hand to my lips," mimicked Pythagoras mockingly. "Verrek jezelf!" he muttered under his breath.
"If you do not hold your tongue, O wise Pythagoras," retorted Diogenes with all his wonted merriment, "I'll even have to drop Socrates on the top of you in order to break your head."
"But 'tis a fortune—the promise of a fortune which you let slip so stupidly."
"There is a certain wisdom even in stupidity sometimes, Pythagoras, as you will discover one day, when your nose is less red and your figure less fat. Remember that I have three guilders in my pocket, and that our thirst hath not grown less. Follow me now, we've talked enough for to-night."
And he started walking down the street with long and rapid strides. Socrates up aloft swaying about like a dummy figure in carnival time, and Pythagoras—still muttering a series of diversified oaths—bringing up the rear.