says white, and so on and so on. What is all that
to me? I am the father of a family who goes to the cafe--"

"For a game at dominoes," said Rodolphe.

"Every evening," continued Monsieur Mouton. "Well, to put a case--you
understand?"

"Exactly," observed Rodolphe.

"I read an article which is not according to my views. That puts me in a
rage, and I fret my heart out, because you see, Monsieur Rodolphe,
newspapers are all lies. Yes, lies," he screeched in his shrillest
falsetto, "and the journalists are robbers."

"But, Monsieur Mouton--"

"Yes, brigands," continued the clerk. "They are the cause of all our
misfortunes; they brought about the Revolution and its paper money,
witness Murat."

"Excuse me," said Rodolphe, "you mean Marat."

"No, no," resumed Monsieur Mouton, "Murat, for I saw his funeral when I
was quite a child--"

"But I assure you--"

"They even brought you a piece at the Circus about him, so there."

"Exactly," said Rodolphe, "that was Murat."

"Well what else have I been saying for an hour past?" exclaimed the
obstinate Mouton. "Murat, who used to work in a cellar, eh? Well, to put
a case. Were not the Bourbons right to guillotine him, since he had
played the traitor?"

"Guillotine who? Play the traitor to whom?" cried Rodolphe,
button-holing Monsieur Mouton in turn.

"Why Marat."

"No, no, Monsieur Mouton. Murat, let us understand one another, hang it
all!"

"Precisely, Marat, a scoundrel. He betrayed the Emperor in 1815. That is
why I say all the papers are alike," continued Monsieur Mouton,
returning to the original theme of what he called an explanation. "Do
you know what I should like, Monsieur Rodolphe? Well, to put a case. I
should like a good paper. Ah! not too large and not stuffed with
phrases."

"You are exacting," interrupted Rodolphe, "a newspaper without phrases."

"Yes, certainly. Follow my idea?"

"I am trying to."

"A paper which should simply give the state of the King's health and of
the crops. For after all, what is the use of all your papers that no one
can understand? To put a case. I am at the town hall, am I not? I keep
my books; very good. Well, it is just as if someone came to me and said,
'Monsieur Mouton, you enter the deaths--well, do this, do that.' What do
you mean by this and that? Well, it is the same thing with newspapers,"
he wound up with.

"Evidently," said a neighbor who had understood.

And Monsieur Mouton having received the congra