"
The Mayor gasped at this rebuff, and turned, if it were possible,
a shade redder; but he uncovered.
"Now I do not mind telling you," Pierre continued, with a mild
dignity admirably assumed, "that I am Simon Grabot, and have the
honour to be Mayor of Bottitort."
"You!"
"Yes, monsieur, I; though perhaps unworthy."
I looked to see an explosion, but the Mayor was too far gone.
"Why, you swindling impostor," he said, with something that was
almost admiration in his tone. "You are the very prince of
cheats! The king of cozeners! But for all that, let me tell
you, you have chosen the wrong ROLE this time. For I--I, sir, am
the Mayor of Bottitort, the very man whose name you have taken!"
Pierre stared at him in composed silence, which his comrade was
the first to break. "Is he mad?" he said in a low voice.
The grave man shook his head.
The Mayor heard and saw; and getting no other answer, began to
tremble between passion and a natural, though ill-defined,
misgiving, which the silent gaze of so large a party--for we all
looked at him compassionately--was well calculated to produce.
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