Guicheaux, in his excitement, continued to heave Hopart back a little, and to draw himself up so that he lay like a bolster doubled over the sill.
“Beaumanoir! Bully Beaumanoir, by God’s grace! Phew!”
He kicked out suddenly and began to writhe and wriggle under Hopart’s weight.
“Get back, great fool! Let me in.”
“What ails you, little one?”
“The captain!” And Guicheaux spluttered. “Get off my legs, oaf. He’ll break my head.”
Hopart’s obtuseness seemed as bulky as his body.
“What’s the captain doing, eh?”
Guicheaux cursed him, and contrived to squeeze back into the room.
“Was not madame there, fool?” he asked, looking hot and flattened.