Colleville [angrily]. “Let me tell you that if Napoleon Bonaparte had studied the letters of his name on the 14th of April, 1814, he might perhaps be Emperor still.”
Bixiou. “How do you make that out?”
Colleville [solemnly]. “Napoleon Bonaparte.—No, appear not at Elba!”
Dutocq. “You’ll lose your place for talking such nonsense.”
Colleville. “If my place is taken from me, Francois Keller will make it hot for your minister.” [Dead silence.] “I’d have you to know, Master Dutocq, that all known anagrams have actually come to pass. Look here,—you, yourself,—don’t you marry, for there’s ‘coqu’ in your name.”
Bixiou [interrupting]. “And d, t, for de-testable.”
Dutocq [without seeming angry]. “I don’t care, as long as it is only in my name. Why don’t you anagrammatize, or whatever you call it, ‘Xavier Rabourdin, chef du bureau’?”
Colleville. “Bless you, so I have!”
Bixiou [mending his pen]. “And what did you make of it?”
Colleville. “It comes out as follows: D’abord reva bureaux, E-u,—(you catch the meaning? et eut—and had) E-u fin riche; which signifies that after first belonging to the administration, he gave it up and got rich elsewhere.” [Repeats.] “D’abord reva bureaux, E-u fin riche.”