"But, monsieur," hastily exclaimed the hunchback, interrupting his companion afresh; "if, instead of being polite, you are disposed to enjoy yourself at my expense, you ought to say something decidedly impertinent, as, for example: 'M. de Maillefort, I have a horror of deformities and really cannot bear the idea of seeing you dance;' or 'Really, M. de Maillefort, I have too much pride to show myself in the back to back figure with you.' So you see, my dear M. de Mornand," continued the hunchback, with increasing jovialness, "that, as I can ridicule myself better than any one else can, I am perfectly right not to allow any one else to do clumsily what I can do so admirably myself."
"You say that you will not allow," began M. de Mornand, impatiently—
"Come, come, Mornand, this is all nonsense," exclaimed Ravil. "And, you, marquis, are much too sensible a man—"
"That is not the question," replied Mornand, hotly. "This gentleman says he will not allow—"
"Any person to ridicule me," interrupted the marquis. "No, I will not tolerate it for a single instant; I repeat it."
"But Mornand certainly never thought for a single instant of ridiculing you, I am sure, marquis," cried Ravil.
"Is that true, baron?"
"Yes, certainly, certainly."
"Then the gentleman will do me the favour to explain what he meant by his reply."
"That is very simple. I will volunteer—"