"He is a brick, a perfect brick," roared Simon.
Lepitre had gone to the window, and turned his back upon the room; he was perhaps too deficient in spirit to join in the joke. Nobody paid any attention to him; nobody saw him take a little packet from his coat-pocket, and slide it slowly and carefully behind the wooden box that stood beneath the window.
"Madame," cried Toulan, in a still louder voice, "I fear your grace has not heard my salutation."
The queen slowly raised her eyes, and turned them to the man who was still standing upon the threshold. "I heard it," she said, coldly, "go on writing, my son." And she went on in the sentence that she had just then begun to dictate.
"I am so happy at being heard by Madame Veto that I shall have to celebrate it by a little bonfire!"—said Toulan, taking a cigar from his breast-pocket. "You see, my friends, that I am a very good courtier, though I have the honor to be a sans-culottes. In the presence of handsome ladies I only smoke cigars! Hallo! bring me a little fire."
One of the officials silently passed him his long pipe. Toulan lighted his cigar, placed himself at the threshold, and blew great clouds of smoke into the chamber.
The ladies still continued to sit quietly without paying any attention to Toulan. The queen dictated, and the dauphin wrote. The queen only interrupted herself in this occupation, when she had to cough and wipe her eyes, which the smoke filled with tears.
Toulan had followed every one of her movements with an amused look. "Madame does not appear to take any pleasure in my bonfire!" he said. "Will madame not smoke?"
The queen made no reply, but quietly went on with her dictation.
"Madame," cried Toulan, laughing loudly, "I should like to smoke a pipe of peace with you, as our brown brethren in happy, free America do—madame, I beg you to do me the honor to smoke a pipe of peace with me."