"Enter, you vile specimens of human folly!" hissed the inside guard as we passed within. "D———all three of you!"
We had no sooner found ourselves inside than this same person, a short, stout man, with long hair and a powerful frame, and the face of a cutthroat, struck a table with the heavy stick that he carried, and roared to us,—"Sit down!"
Mr. Thompkins involuntarily cowered, but he gathered himself up and went with us to seats at the nearest table. While we were doing this the habitués of the place greeted us with this song, sung in chorus:
"Oh, là là! c'te gueule—
C'te binette.
Oh, là là, c'te gueule,
Qu'il a."
"What are they saying?" asked Mr. Thompkins; but Bishop spared him by explaining that it was only the latest song.
