"You know very well that I pardon you, and that I preserve the happiest recollection of you."
"You are too good."
These thoughts were evidently in the mind of the lady; so there was here no more proof of identity than in the other case.
All of a sudden the table begins to move vigorously, and another name is dictated, "Ravachol."[46]
"Oh, what is he going to say to us?"
I will set down here what he said, though not without shame, and with all due apologies to my lady readers. Here it is in all its crudity:
"Bougres de crétins, votre sale gueule est encore plaine des odeurs du festin."
("Nasty blackguards and idiots, your dirty throat is still full of the odors of the feast.")
"Monsieur Ravachol, this language of yours is exquisite! Have you nothing more refined than this to say to us?"