Bixiou.  “Yes, sir! whether English, French, German or Italian,—­I let you off the other languages.”

Poiret [lifting his hands to heaven].  “Gracious goodness! and they call you a witty man!”

Bixiou.  “Haven’t you understood me yet?”

Phellion.  “Your last observation was full of excellent sense.”

Bixiou.  “Just as full as the budget itself, and like the budget again, as complicated as it looks simple; and I set it as a warning, a beacon, at the edge of this hole, this gulf, this volcano, called, in the language of the ‘Constitutionel,’ ‘the political horizon.’”

Poiret.  “I should much prefer a comprehensible explanation.”

Bixiou.  “Hurrah for Rabourdin! there’s my explanation; that’s my opinion.  Are you satisfied?”

Colleville [gravely].  “Monsieur Rabourdin had but one defect.”

Poiret.  “What was it?”

Colleville.  “That of being a statesman instead of a subordinate official.”

Phellion [standing before Bixiou].  “Monsieur! why did you, who understand Monsieur Rabourdin so well, why did you make that inf—­that odi—­that hideous caricature?”

Bixiou.  “Do you forget our bet? don’t you know I was backing the devil’s game, and that your bureau owes me a dinner at the Rocher de Cancale?”

Poiret [much put-out].  “Then it is a settled thing that I am to leave this government office without ever understanding a sentence, or a single word uttered by Monsieur Bixiou.”

Bixiou.  “It is your own fault; ask these gentlemen.  Gentlemen, have you understood the meaning of my observations? and were those observations just, and brilliant?”

All.  “Alas, yes!”

Minard.  “And the proof is that I shall send in my resignation.  I shall plunge into industrial avocations.”

Bixiou.  “What! have you managed to invent a mechanical corset, or a baby’s bottle, or a fire engine, or chimneys that consume no fuel, or ovens which cook cutlets with three sheets of paper?”

Minard [departing.] “Adieu, I shall keep my secret.”

Bixiou.  “Well, young Poiret junior, you see,—­all these gentlemen understand me.”

Poiret [crest-fallen].  “Monsieur Bixiou, would you do me the honor to come down for once to my level and speak in a language I can understand?”

Bixiou [winking at the rest].  “Willingly.” [Takes Poiret by the button of his frock-coat.] “Before you leave this office forever perhaps you would be glad to know what you are—­”

Poiret [quickly].  “An honest man, monsieur.”

Bixiou [shrugging his shoulders]. “—­to be able to define, explain, and analyze precisely what a government clerk is?  Do you know what he is?”

Poiret.  “I think I do.”

Bixiou [twisting the button].  “I doubt it.”

Poiret.  “He is a man paid by government to do work.”

Bixiou.  “Oh! then a soldier is a government clerk?”