To describe Thuillier’s indignation would be impossible. He marched up and down the room, talking aloud to himself, as people do in moments of excitement.
“I’ll turn them all out!” he cried. And we are forced to omit the rest of the furious objurgation.
As he ended his anathema a rap was heard on the door.
“Come in!” said Thuillier, in a tone that depicted his wrath and his frantic impatience.
The door opened, and Minard rushed precipitately into his arms.
“My good, my excellent friend!” cried the mayor of the eleventh arrondissement, concluding his embrace with a hearty shake of the hand.
“Why! what is it?” said Thuillier, unable to comprehend the warmth of this demonstration.
“Ah! my dear friend,” continued Minard, “such an admirable proceeding! really chivalrous! most disinterested! The effect, I assure you, is quite stupendous in the arrondissement.”
“But what, I say?” cried Thuillier, impatiently.
“The article, the whole action,” continued Minard, “so noble, so elevated!”