"No, no," resumed Monsieur Mouton, "Murat, for I saw his funeral when I was quite a child—"
"But I assure you—"
"They even brought you a piece at the Circus about him, so there."
"Exactly," said Rodolphe, "that was Murat."
"Well what else have I been saying for an hour past?" exclaimed the obstinate Mouton. "Murat, who used to work in a cellar, eh? Well, to put a case. Were not the Bourbons right to guillotine him, since he had played the traitor?"
"Guillotine who? Play the traitor to whom?" cried Rodolphe, button-holing Monsieur Mouton in turn.
"Why Marat."
"No, no, Monsieur Mouton. Murat, let us understand one another, hang it all!"
"Precisely, Marat, a scoundrel. He betrayed the Emperor in 1815. That is why I say all the papers are alike," continued Monsieur Mouton, returning to the original theme of what he called an explanation. "Do you know what I should like, Monsieur Rodolphe? Well, to put a case. I should like a good paper. Ah! not too large and not stuffed with phrases."
"You are exacting," interrupted Rodolphe, "a newspaper without phrases."