An admirable maxim that! Panoukian, of course, had every right to be Panoukian; ergo, if needs must, to change into another Panoukian. The young man’s placid, contented, comfortably absorbed silence was exasperating.
“Panoukian!” said Old Mole.
Panoukian groped out of his silence.
“Yes, sir.”
(Ludicrously boylike he looked, all wide-eyed, deliberate innocence.)
“There is a passage in Montaigne which, I think, excellently illustrates the observation you made some time ago. It is over there at the end of the bookcase.”
Panoukian rose and strolled over to the shelf indicated, his back toward Old Mole, who sprang to his feet, strode, breathing heavily, glared fixedly at the round apex of the angle of Panoukian and lunged out in a lusty kick. The young man pitched forward, righted himself, and swung round, with his hand soothing the coat-tail-covered portion of his body.
“Why the Hell did you do that?” he grunted.
“To illustrate your maxim,” said Old Mole, “and also to relieve my feelings.”