After a time he resumed his oration. "Of course, I know that you are not reformed in the matter of this uproar and this remarkable consumption of bad wine. It is not that. It is a fact that there are indications that some other citizen was fortunate enough to possess your napkin before you; and, moreover, you are sure that you would hate to be caught by your correct friends with any such _consomme_ in front of you as we had to-night. You have got an eye suddenly for all kinds of gilt. You are in the way of becoming a most unbearable person.--Oh, look! the little one and the proprietor are having it now.--You are in the way of becoming a most unbearable person. Presently many of your friends will not be fine enough.--In heaven's name, why don't they throw him out? Are you going to howl and gesticulate there all night?" "Well," said Hawker, "a man would be a fool if he did like this dinner." "Certainly. But what an immaterial part in the glory of this joint is the dinner! Who cares about dinner? No one comes here to eat; that's what you always claimed.--Well, there, at last they are throwing him out. I hope he lands on his head.--Really, you know, Billie, it is such a fine thing being in love that one is sure to be detestable to the rest of the world, and that is the reason they created a proverb to the other effect. You want to look out." "You talk like a blasted old granny!" said Hawker. "Haven't changed at all. This place is all right, only----" "You are gone," interrupted Hollanden in a sad voice. "It is very plain--you are gone." CHAPTER XXVIII. The proprietor of the place, having pushed to the street the little man, who may have been the most vehement, came again and resumed the discussion with the remainder of the men of war. Many of these had volunteered, and they were very enduring. "Yes, you are gone," said Hollanden, with the sobriety of graves in his voice. "You are gone.--Hi!" he cried, "there is Lucian Pontiac.--Hi, Pontiac! Sit down here." A man with a tangle of hair, and with that about his mouth which showed that he had spent many years in manufacturing a proper modesty with which to bear his greatness, came toward them, smiling. "Hello, Pontiac!" said Hollanden. "Here's another great painter. Do you know Mr. Hawker?--Mr. William Hawker--Mr. Pontiac." "Mr. Hawker--delighted," said Pontiac. "Although I have not known you personally, I can assure you that I have long been a great admirer of your abilities." The proprietor of the place and the men of war had at length agreed to come to an amicable understanding. They drank liquors, while each firmly, but now silently, upheld his dignity. "Charming place," said Pontiac. "So thoroughly Parisian in spirit. And from time to time, Mr. Hawker, I use one of your models. Must say she has the best arm and wrist in the universe. Stunning figure--stunning!" "You mean Florinda?" said Hawker.