"This double-bottomed pantry reminds me," struck in the uproarious Marquis, "of a certain gallant adventure of which I was once the hero. I'll tell it to you—"
"Devil take the bore! Give us a rest with your stories," quoth the Count.
"Marquis, why did you return to France? Answer categorically," said the Bishop to him.
"Idiot! To save my King! To snatch him out of the hands of the Philistines!"
"And is it thus that you pretend to save him, by interrupting our deliberations with your buffoonery? With jests out of season?"
"But you are not deliberating on a thing! You're sitting there like three sea-storks! Hi! hi! hi! You're not going ahead with the business any more than I am."
"The giddy fellow is correct," said Morlet, for once taking the Marquis's side. "We shall never finish if we do not introduce some order into this. I shall take the chair, and open the meeting."
"You—take the chair—my reverend sir? And by what right?" was the reply of the Bishop of Gallipoli.
"By the right which a man of sense has over fools like the Marquis; by the right which my age gives me. For I am here much older than any of you."
"So be it; preside," said Plouernel.