In a bellicose tone he began to sing the Marseillaise, which is a very inspiriting republican air.
“To arms, my citizens,” he shouted. “Death to tyrants, and all the rest of it.”
Monday pushed him back on a divan.
“None ob your larks,” he said.
“The enemy is at our gates,” replied Mole.
“We have not got any!”
“That is an omission. Order some immediately, regardless of expense.”
“Shut up!”
“What is money when danger threatens?”
“It comes in handy to buy grub and pay the bill of the butcher and baker.”