"I know indeed that most officers are brutes," grumbled the little old man. "But that is no reason...."
"I am only an officer myself," Morhange went on, in an even humbler tone, "and if ever I have been sensible to the intellectual inferiority of that class, I assure you that it was now in glancing—I beg your pardon for having taken the liberty to do so—in glancing over the learned pages which you devote to the passionate story of Medusa, according to Procles of Carthage, cited by Pausanias."
A laughable surprise spread over the features of the little old man. He hastily wiped his spectacles.
"What!" he finally cried.
"It is indeed unfortunate, in this matter," Morhange continued imperturbably, "that we are not in possession of the curious dissertation devoted to this burning question by Statius Sebosus, a work which we know only through Pliny and which...."
"You know Statius Sebosus?"
"And which, my master, the geographer Berlioux...."
"You knew Berlioux—you were his pupil?" stammered the little man with the decoration.
"I have had that honor," replied Morhange, very coldly.
"But, but, sir, then you have heard mentioned, you are familiar with the question, the problem of Atlantis?"