He made a motion, as if to thrust the other aside and plunge toward the entrance of L'Enfer. But the manager of Heaven was not to be thus outdone. He was determined that the incident should be considered closed; and for this there were reasons. It was but the beginning of the tourist season, and the foreign clientèle must not be antagonized. A paragraph in the "Matin," a sensational article in the "Herald" of to-morrow, and the Angliches would believe that the Cabaret du Ciel was no safe place for foreigners to enter. In agonized imagination he saw the gate receipts of Heaven dwindling, disappearing. It were better, far better, to sacrifice Maxime. He grasped the agent by the arm, and pointed to the fallen angel, who was still seated in the gutter, collecting his scattered wits, with a vacant stare. "Look you," he said, persuasively, "this tripe, this species of onion, this example of an eel, is the cause of all. It is I who know, n'est ce pas? being his patron. Eh b'en, I assure you that it is a drunkard of the most abandoned. Thirteen times in the dozen, one finds him in the fog, rigid as the Obelisk, bon Dieu! not merely lit, voyons, but flaming,--as full as Robespierre's donkey,--asphyxiated! It is not a man, sac à papier! It is a sponge--but a sponge, do you understand?--a pompier! He dries glasses--_poof!_--like that! Il lave sa gueule là-dedans, nothing less!" "Bravo!" said Gustave Robine, and all the angels applauded. The agent paused, doubtful of what course to pursue, overwhelmed by this burst of eloquence, and Top-Hat, perceiving the impression he had made, addressed himself to Maxime. "Waffle!" he cried, contemptuously. "Cream of a tart! Thou wast there, then, the day of the distribution, O stupid as thy feet! And who art thou, let us hear, to find thyself in a position to apply kicks to the clients? If thou wert employed at La Villette, where they slaughter pigs, sacred stove, thy first blow would be suicide!" He rose, in a majestic sweep, to the pinnacle of supreme courtesy. "Monsieur le marquis has, perhaps, hurt himself, stumbling by accident? Is it permitted to the obedient servitor of monsieur le marquis to inquire if monsieur le marquis has sustained any damage by reason of his deplorable mischance?" He descended, in a graceful curve, to the depths of utter scorn. "Animal low of ceiling! Camel! Gourd! Ancient senator! Gas-jet! Shut thy mouth, or I jump within!" And he paused,--breathless, but triumphant. It was magnificent! In the annals of Heaven there was record of no such climax of vituperation. The angels surveyed their patron with undisguised admiration. Even the agent touched the visor of his cap. "Monsieur," he said, "I yield the field to you. Your vocabulary is unrivaled--unless by General Cambronne!" "Monsieur, you flatter me," replied the other, with a bow.