M. Foulon was there. He had heard the noise, which was indeed deafening, and had descended to the yard from his room. He was in his brown topcoat, and the little wiry pigtail with its huge bow protruded over it like a monstrous dragon-fly that had alighted on his collar. ‘Bah! you are three fools,’ said he; then, drawing his great gold snuff-box from his breast pocket, he poured some of the dust into his hand, snuffed it up himself, strewing his face with particles of tobacco, then he emptied half that remained in the box into his hand, and walked leisurely up to Poulet. ‘Eh bien, Poulet!’ said he, with a tone of mingled banter and defiance. The hound turned its head instantly, snarled, cowered, and the old man flung the snuff into its face. ‘Now you may go and wink and sneeze your superfluous spirits away, you chicken, you!’ Foulon continued; ‘now you may go to your darling brother Pigeon, and you may tell him that you do not like snuff, that snuff is expensive, because of the excise; that we have a monopoly of tobacco, and that the revenue gains by tobacco. Do you understand, Poulet? Well, go and tell Pigeon all about it. Here, I will help you.’ He caught the end of the chain, and drew the dog after him to its kennel. The brute’s attention was engrossed by its own distress, the snuff in its eyes blinded it, the snuff up its nose afflicted it with sneezing, and down its throat choked it. Foulon called to Gustave for a hammer. Adolphe ran with alacrity to look for one, Gustave brought one. The old man calmly snuffed again, then took the hammer and riveted the staple. ‘Now, then, you rascal,’ said he, turning abruptly upon the footman; ‘do you not see that you have left Monsieur le Curé outside the gate? How thoughtless, how unmannerly!’ Adolphe bounded to the railing and unlocked the iron gate. Thomas Lindet walked past him, and went straight towards Monsieur Foulon. The old gentleman removed his hat and bowed courteously; the priest, absorbed in the purpose of his visit, had forgotten these courtesies. He now bent towards Foulon stiffly, and raised his shovel hat. ‘You have done me an honour I never hoped to have enjoyed. This day you have made me a proud man; hitherto I have been humble. Beware, my dear curé, or you will blow me up into extravagant conceit.’ Lindet looked at him with surprise. ‘You did me the honour of preaching an observation I made within your hearing to my excellent son-in-law, the good Berthier. I did not know that my remarks were so valuable, so deserving of repetition.’ ‘I have come to speak of quite another matter,’ said Lindet.