When he volunteered this bit of information Emmy gave a cry of surprise.

This dashing, swaggering desperado of a fellow a waiter! "I shall never understand this country!" she cried.
"When one has good introductions and knows how to comport oneself, one makes much"-- and he rubbed his thumb and fingers together, according to the national code of pantomime.
And then his hosts would tell him about England and the fogs, wherein he was greatly interested; or Septimus would discourse to him of inventions, the weak spot in which his shrewd intelligence generally managed to strike, and then Septimus would run his fingers through this hair and say, "God bless my soul, I never thought of that," and Emmy would laugh; or else they talked politics.

Hegisippe, being a Radical, _fiche_'d himself absolutely of the Pope and the priests.

To be kind to one's neighbors and act as a good citizen summed up his ethical code.

He was as moral as any devout Catholic.
"What about the girl in the Rue des Francs-Bouchers ?" asked Emmy.
"If I were a good Catholic, I would have two, for then I could get absolution," he cried gaily, and laughed immoderately at his jest.
The days of his visits were marked red in Emmy's calendar.
"I wish I were a funny beggar, and had lots of conversation like our friend Cruchot, and could make you laugh," said Septimus one day, when the _taedium vitae_ lay heavy on her.
"If you had a sense of humor you wouldn't be here," she replied, with some bitterness.
Septimus rubbed his thin hands together thoughtfully.
"I don't know why you should say that," said he.