"Good, if it please you! And the meaning?"
"Tissot was a fool, and you are another!" the young man returned. "Will you now solve me one, reverend sir, with all submission?"
"Said and done!" the big man answered disdainfully.
"Nec volucres plumæ faciunt nec cuspis Achillem! Construe me that then if you will!"
Basterga shrugged his shoulders. "Fine feathers do not make fine birds!" he said. "If you apply it to me," he continued with a contemptuous face, "I——"
"Oh, no, to your company," Claude answered. Self-control comes hardly to the young, and he had already forgotten his rôle. "Ask him what happened last night at the 'Bible and Hand,'" he continued, pointing to Grio, "and how he stands now with his friend the Syndic!"
"The Syndic?"
"The Syndic Blondel!"
The moment the words had passed his lips, Claude repented. He saw that he had struck a note more serious than he intended. The big man did not move, but over his fat face crept a watching expression; he was plainly startled. His eyes, reduced almost to pin-points, seemed for an instant the eyes of a cat about to spring. The effect was so evident indeed that it bewildered Claude and so completely diverted his attention from Grio, the real target, that when the bully, who had listened stupidly to the exchange of wit, proved by a brutal oath his comprehension of the reference to himself, the young man scarcely heard him.
"The Syndic Blondel?" Basterga muttered after a pregnant pause. "What know you of him, pray?"