"No, no," resumed Monsieur Mouton, "Murat, for I saw his funeral when I was quite a child--" "But I assure you--" "They even brought you a piece at the Circus about him, so there." "Exactly," said Rodolphe, "that was Murat." "Well what else have I been saying for an hour past?" exclaimed the obstinate Mouton. "Murat, who used to work in a cellar, eh? Well, to put a case. Were not the Bourbons right to guillotine him, since he had played the traitor?" "Guillotine who? Play the traitor to whom?" cried Rodolphe, button-holing Monsieur Mouton in turn. "Why Marat." "No, no, Monsieur Mouton. Murat, let us understand one another, hang it all!" "Precisely, Marat, a scoundrel. He betrayed the Emperor in 1815. That is why I say all the papers are alike," continued Monsieur Mouton, returning to the original theme of what he called an explanation. "Do you know what I should like, Monsieur Rodolphe? Well, to put a case. I should like a good paper. Ah! not too large and not stuffed with phrases." "You are exacting," interrupted Rodolphe, "a newspaper without phrases." "Yes, certainly. Follow my idea?" "I am trying to." "A paper which should simply give the state of the King's health and of the crops. For after all, what is the use of all your papers that no one can understand? To put a case. I am at the town hall, am I not? I keep my books; very good. Well, it is just as if someone came to me and said, 'Monsieur Mouton, you enter the deaths--well, do this, do that.' What do you mean by this and that? Well, it is the same thing with newspapers," he wound up with. "Evidently," said a neighbor who had understood. And Monsieur Mouton having received the congratulations of some of the other frequenters of the cafe who shared his opinion, resumed his game at dominoes. "I have taught him his place," said he, indicating Rodolphe, who had returned to the same table at which Schaunard and Colline were seated. "What a blockhead!" said Rodolphe to the two young fellows. "He has a fine head, with his eyelids like the hood of a cabriolet, and his eyes like glass marbles," said Schaunard, pulling out a wonderfully coloured pipe. "By Jupiter, sir," said Rodolphe, "that is a very pretty pipe of yours." "Oh! I have a much finer one I wear in society," replied Schaunard, carelessly, "pass me some tobacco, Colline." "Hullo!" said the philosopher, "I have none left." "Allow me to offer you some," observed Rodolphe, pulling a packet of tobacco out of his pocket and placing it on the table. To this civility Colline thought it his duty to respond by an offer of glasses round.