Losing all patience, Dagobert turned abruptly round, looked Morok full in the face, and said to him in a rough voice:  “I don’t know you:  I don’t wish to know you!  Chain up your curb!” And he betook himself again to his washing.

“But we may make acquaintance.  We can drink a glass of Rhine-wine together, and talk of our campaigns.  I also have seen some service, I assure you; and that, perhaps, will induce you to be more civil.”

The veins on the bald forehead of Dagobert swelled perceptibly; he saw in the look and accent of the man, who thus obstinately addressed him, something designedly provoking; still he contained himself.

“I ask you, why should you not drink a glass of wine with me—­we could talk about France.  I lived there a long time; it is a fine country; and when I meet Frenchmen abroad, I feel sociable—­particularly when they know how to use the soap as well as you do.  If I had a housewife I’d send her to your school.”

The sarcastic meaning was no longer disguised; impudence and bravado were legible in the Prophet’s looks.  Thinking that, with such an adversary, the dispute might become serious, Dagobert, who wished to avoid a quarrel at any price, carried off his tub to the other end of the porch, hoping thus to put an end to the scene which was a sore trial of his temper.  A flash of joy lighted up the tawny eyes of the brute-tamer.  The white circle, which surrounded the pupil seemed to dilate.  He ran his crooked fingers two or three times through his yellow beard, in token of satisfaction; then he advanced slowly towards the soldier, accompanied by several idlers from the common-room.

Notwithstanding his coolness, Dagobert, amazed and incensed at the impudent pertinacity of the Prophet, was at first disposed to break the washing-board on his head; but, remembering the orphans, he thought better of it.

Folding his arms upon his breast, Morok said to him, in a dry and insolent tone:  “It is very certain you are not civil, my man of suds!” Then, turning to the spectators, he continued in German:  “I tell this Frenchman, with his long moustache, that he is not civil.  We shall see what answer he’ll make.  Perhaps it will be necessary to give him a lesson.  Heaven preserve me from quarrels!” he added, with mock compunction; “but the Lord has enlightened me—­I am his creature, and I ought to make his work respected.”

The mystical effrontery of this peroration was quite to the taste of the idlers; the fame of the Prophet had reached Mockern, and, as a performance was expected on the morrow, this prelude much amused the company.  On hearing the insults of his adversary, Dagobert could not help saying in the German language:  “I know German.  Speak in German—­the rest will understand you.”

New spectators now arrived, and joined the first comers; the adventure had become exciting, and a ring was formed around the two persons most concerned.