Then seeing from the expression on Roberts’s face that the remark was not understood, he again went into an explosion of merriment.
“J’ai oublié!” he gasped. “Vous ne comprenez pas——”
Yet, though Roberts did not understand, there was one thing which these things did make plain to him, and which brought him a vast relief. This farce, whatever it was, was at least not going to turn out a tragedy for him.
He stood as he was in the centre of the hallway watching the crowd. When the first burst of laughter had passed away they remained eagerly talking to each other, glancing at him occasionally and gesticulating. The little Frenchman, who seemed not to have the slightest enmity toward Roberts for having knocked him down, was still standing in front of him, laughing excitedly and trying to make himself understood. As he only continued to shake his head the Frenchman gave a gesture of despair. Suddenly, however, a thought seemed to strike him, and he whirled about and called to one of the men.
“Jacques!” he exclaimed. “Appelez Jacques!”
Immediately one of the men turned and darted out of the door. It was only a few seconds later before another man entered the room and toward him the excited little Frenchman rushed. Still shaking with merriment he began an excited conversation, glancing occasionally at Roberts. In a few seconds the newcomer was also convulsed with hilarity.
“Parlez-lui, Jacques!” cried the master of the house excitedly. “Vite!”
And the man came toward Roberts, his face strained with suppressed laughter.
“Sir!” he stammered, scarcely able to speak. “Sir, I explain!”