'Tousand Teufel!'—said Baron Bludenuff.
'Tweedle-dee—tweedle-dee—tweedle-dum!' said the orchestra.
'Ah joli!—Dios guarda!—Diavolo!—and Tousand Teufel!' repeated Mademoiselle Pas Seul, Don Stiletto, Count Capricornuto, and Baron Bludenuff. It was too bad—it was not to be borne. I grew angry.
'Sir!'—said I to the Baron—'you are a baboon.'
'Sir!'—replied he, after a pause,—'Donner and Blitzen!'
This was sufficient. The next morning I shot off his nose at six o'clock, and then called upon my friends.
'Bête!'—said the first.
'Fool!'—said the second.
'Ninny!'—said the third.
'Dolt!'—said the fourth.