John, for his part, had patched up a peace with the man, after this fashion: On the second day Barboux had called upon le Chameau for a song; and, the little hunchback having given "En roulant ma boule," demanded another. "But it is monsieur's turn, who has a charming voice," suggested le Chameau politely. "It has the misfortune to grate on the ears of our English milord," Barboux answered with an angry flush, stealing a malevolent glance at John. "And I do not sing to please myself." John doubted this; but being by nature quick to forgive and repent a quarrel, he answered with some grace: "I was annoyed, Sergeant Barboux, and said what I thought would hurt rather than what was just. You possess, indeed, a charming voice, and I regret to have insulted it." "You mean it?" asked Barboux, still red in the face, but patently delighted. "So entirely that I shall not pardon myself until you have done us the favour to sing." The sergeant held out his hand. "And that's very handsomely said! Given or taken, an apology never goes astray between brave fellows. And, after all," he added, "I had, if I remember, something the better of that argument! You really wish me to sing, then?" "To be sure I do," Jack assured him, smiling. Barboux cleared his throat, wagged his head once or twice impassively and trolled out: "Belle meuniere, en passant par ici, Ne suis-je-t'y pas eloigne d'ltalie. . . ." From this graceful opening the song declined into the grossest filth; and it was easy to see, watching his face, why McQuarters, without understanding a word of French, had accused him of singing "sculduddery." John, though disgusted, could not help being amused by a performance which set him in mind now of a satyr and now of a mincing schoolgirl--_vert galant avec un sourire de cantatrice_-- lasciviousness blowing affected kisses in the intervals of licking its chops. At the conclusion he complimented the singer, with a grave face. Barboux bowed. "It has, to say true, a little more marrow in it than le Chameau's _rossignols_ and _rosiers_. Hola, Chameau; the Englishman here agrees that you sing well, but that your matter is watery stuff. You must let me teach you one or two of my songlets--" "Pardon, m'sieur, mais ca sera un peu trop--trop vif; c'est-a-dire pour moi," stammered the little hunchback. Barboux guffawed. The idea of le Chameau as a ladies' man tickled him hugely, and he tormented the patient fellow with allusions to it, and to his deformity, twenty times a day.