"What! Do you mean to say you still speak to that dastard?"
"He's quite a decent man," she replied.
"He! A decent man! With theories like his!"
She hurried from the room, to escape the explosion. But Morestal was fairly started:
"Yes, yes, theories! I insist upon the word: theories! As a district-councillor, as Mayor of Saint-Élophe, I have the right to be present at his lessons. Oh, you have no idea of his way of teaching the history of France!... In my time, the heroes were the Chevalier d'Assas, Bayard, La Tour d'Auvergne, all those beggars who shed lustre on our country. Nowadays, it's Mossieu Étienne Marcel, Mossieu Dolet.... Oh, a nice set of theories, theirs!"
He barred the way to his wife, as she entered the room again, and roared in her face:
"Do you know why Napoleon lost the battle of Waterloo?"
"I can't find that large breakfast-cup anywhere," said Mme. Morestal, engrossed in her occupation.
"Well, just ask your school-master; he'll give you the latest up-to-date theories about Napoleon."
"I put it down here, on this chest, with my own hand."