“Mon Dieu! I am a Frenchman. I go to America or Austria. A son is born to me there. Is he an American or an Austrian? No, Monsieur, he is a Frenchman!” and he glared defiance.
—But the little man reasoned that, on the other hand, France was too hospitable not to take in strangers.
Mephistopheles swore it was not logical, and, what was more, it was against la morale, and la morale was prime. This was his clinching argument.
The dispute grew warm. They both left their coffee and walked up and down the room with great angry strides, beat themselves on their breasts, threw their arms to right and left; one would have thought blows were imminent. In passing, they stopped simultaneously before the sportsman, who sat near me.——
“And you, sir, what do you say?”
“My faith, gentlemen, I say you are both too violent.”
—Thus startled into speech, he turned to me to explain his views.——
“A man wishes to adopt France. Et bien? it is reasonable that France should adopt him.”
—When I looked around again the argument had been amicably adjusted over a backgammon board.