"Come, Chalamel, leave your proverbs alone. You comprehend, that, on
hearing that, I at once understood that he was mistaken, or that he was in
a high fever. I disengaged myself, saying, 'Calm yourself! it is I.' Then
he looked at me with a stupid look."

"Very well! now that sounds like the truth."

"His eyes were wild. 'Eh!' he answered. 'What is it?--who is there? what do
you want with me?' At each question he ran his hand over his face, as if to
drive away the clouds which obscured his thoughts."

"'Which obscured his thoughts!' Just as if it were written! Bravo, head
clerk; we will make a melodrama together:

"'Who speaks so well, and so polite,
A melodrama ought to write.'"

"Do hold your tongue, Chalamel. I know nothing about it; but what is sure
is, that, when he recovered his Senses, it was another song. He knit his
brows in a terrible manner, and said to me, with quickness, without giving
me time to answer, 'What did you come here for?--have you been a long time
here?--can I not be alone in my own house without being surrounded by
spies?--what have I said?--what have you heard? Answer, answer.' He looked
so wicked that I replied, 'I have heard nothing, sir; I just came in.' 'You
do not deceive me?' 'No, sir.' 'Well, what do you want?' 'To ask for some
signatures, sir.' 'Give me the papers.' And he began to sign--without
reading them, a half dozen notarial acts--he, who never put his flourish on
an act without spelling it, letter by letter, and twice over, from end to
end. I remarked that, from time to time, his hand slackened a little in the