They might be counted on.

When Nougarede began to come to the Wednesday reunions he was as empty as a drum, and if he spoke brilliantly on no matter what subject with an imperturbable eloquence, it was to say nothing.

In Glady's first volume were words learnedly arranged to please the ears and the eyes.

Now, ideas sustained the discourse of the advocate, as the verses of the poet said something--and these ideas were Brigard's; this something was the perfume of his teaching.
For half an hour the pipes burned fiercely, the smoke slowly rose to the ceiling, and as in a cloud Brigard might be seen like a bearded god, proclaiming his law, his hat on his head; for, if he had made a rule never to take it off, he manipulated it continually while he spoke, frequently pushing it forward, sometimes to the back of his head, to the right, to the left, raising it, and flattening it, according to the needs of his argument.
"It is incontestable," he said, "that we scatter our great force when we ought to concentrate it." He pressed down his hat.
"In effect," he raised it, "the hour has arrived for us to assert ourselves as a group, and it is a duty for us, since it is a need of humanity--" At this moment a new arrival glided into the room quietly, with the manifest intention of disturbing no one; but Crozat, who was seated near the door, stopped him and shook hands.
"'Tiens', Saniel! Good-day, doctor." "Good-evening, my dear sir." "Come to the table; the beer is good to-day." "Thank you; I am very well here." Without taking the chair that Crozat designated, he leaned against the wall.

He was a tall, solid man about thirty, with tawny hair falling on the collar of his coat, a long, curled beard, a face energetic, but troubled and wan, to which the pale blue eyes gave an expression of hardness that was accentuated by a prominent jaw and a decided air.