Monsieur Tudesco stopped short and smiled, his hair flying, his
eye moist, his arms thrown open as if to embrace and bless; then
he resumed:

"I say it: the laugh of innocence is the ill-starred veteran's
joy. I see from where I stand groups worthy of Correggio's brush,
and I say: Happy the families that meet together in peace in
the heart of their fatherland! Ladies and gentlemen, pardon me
if I hold out to you the casque of Belisarius. I am an old tree
riven by the levin-bolt."

And he went from group to group holding out his peaked felt hat,
into which, amid an icy silence, fell coin by coin a dribble
of small silver.

But suddenly the Superintendent of Studies seized the hat and
pushed the old man outside.

"Give me back my hat," bawled Monsieur Tudesco to the Superintendent,
who was doing his best to restore the coins to the donors; "give
back the old man's hat, the hat of one who has grown grey in
learned studies."

The Superintendent, scarlet with rage, tossed the felt into the
court, shouting:

"Be off, or I will call the police."

The Marquis Tudesco took to his heels with great agility.