And then how funny he was himself, without effort, and with a fun that never failed! He was a born buffoon of the graceful kind—more whelp or kitten than monkey—ever playing the fool, in and out of season, but somehow always à propos; and French boys love a boy for that more than anything else; or did, in those days.
Such very simple buffooneries as they were, too—that gave him (and us) such stupendous delight!
For instance—he is sitting at evening study between Bussy‑Rabutin and Laferté; M. Bonzig is usher for the evening.
At 8.30 Bussy‑Rabutin gives way; in a whisper he informs Barty that he means to take a nap ("piquer un chien"), with his Gradus opened before him, and his hand supporting his weary brow as though in deep study. "But," says he—
"If Bonzig finds me out (si Bonzig me colle), give me a gentle nudge!"
"All right!" says Barty—and off goes Bussy‑Rabutin into his snooze.
8.45.—Poor fat little Laferté falls into a snooze too, after giving Barty just the same commission—to nudge him directly he's found out from the chaire.
8.55.—Intense silence; everybody hard at work. Even Bonzig is satisfied with the deep stillness and studious recueillement that brood over the scene—steady pens going—quick turning over of leaves of the Gradus ad Parnassum. Suddenly Barty sticks out his elbows and nudges both his neighbors at once, and both jump up, exclaiming, in a loud voice:
"Non, m'sieur, je n'dors pas. J'travaille."
Sensation. Even Bonzig laughs—and Barty is happy for a week.