His name was Monsieur Mouton, and he was a clerk at the town hall of the 4th Arrondissement, where he acted as registrar of deaths.
"Monsieur Rodolphe," exclaimed he, in the squeaky tones of a eunuch, shaking the young fellow by a button of his coat which he had laid hold of.

"Do you want to know my opinion?
Well, all your newspapers are of no use whatsoever.

Come now, let us put a supposititious case.

I am the father of a family, am I not?
Good.

I go to the cafe for a game at dominoes?
Follow my argument now." "Go on," said Rodolphe.
"Well," continued Daddy Mouton, punctuating each of his sentences by a blow with his fist which made the jugs and glasses on the table rattle again.