"Sac-r-r-R-R-Ré!" cried the Frenchman.
"Is it that you are mad?" said Buttons.
"Sacré Bleu!" cried the other. "Who are you that lays hands on me?"
"I saved you from destruction."
"Then, Sir, you have no thanks. Behold me, I'm a desperate man!"
In truth he looked like one. His clothes were all disordered. His lips were bleeding, and most of his hair was torn out. By this time the guard had come to the spot. All those in the car had gathered round. It was a long car, second-class, like the American.
"M'sieu, how is this? What is it that I see? You endeavor to kill yourself?"
"Leave me. I am desperate."
"But no. M'sieu, what is it?"
"Listen. I enter the train thinking to go to Avignon. I have important business there, most important. Suddenly I am struck by a thought. I find I have mistaken. I am carried to Marseilles. It is the express train, and I must go all the way. Horror! Despair! Life is of no use! It is time to resign, it! I die! Accordingly I attempt to leap from the window, when this gentleman seizes me by the leg and pulls me in. Behold all."