“He went to get a horse and cart,” said Brogard, laconically, as, with a surly gesture, he shook off from his arm that pretty hand which princes had been proud to kiss.
“At what time did he go?”
But Brogard had evidently had enough of these questionings. He did not think that it was fitting for a citizen—who was the equal of anybody—to be thus catechised by these sacrrès aristos, even though they were rich English ones. It was distinctly more fitting to his newborn dignity to be as rude as possible; it was a sure sign of servility to meekly reply to civil questions.
“I don’t know,” he said surlily. “I have said enough, voyons, les aristos! … He came to-day. He ordered supper. He went out.—He’ll come back. Voilá!”
And with this parting assertion of his rights as a citizen and a free man, to be as rude as he well pleased, Brogard shuffled out of the room, banging the door after him.