In the meantime, while some sang, the rest talked together tumultuously all at once; it was no longer anything but noise. Tholomyès intervened. 'Let us not talk at random nor too fast,' he exclaimed. 'Let us reflect, if we wish to be brilliant.
Too much improvisation empties the mind in a stupid way. Running beer gathers no froth. No haste, gentlemen. Let us mingle majesty with the feast. Let us eat with meditation; let us make haste slowly. Let us not hurry.
Consider the springtime; if it makes haste, it is done for; that is to say, it gets frozen. Excess of zeal ruins peach-trees and apricot-trees. Excess of zeal kills the grace and the mirth of good dinners. No zeal, gentlemen! Grimod de la Reynière agrees with Talleyrand.
' A hollow sound of rebellion rumbled through the group. 'Leave us in peace, Tholomyès,' said Blachevelle. 'Down with the tyrant! ' said Fameuil. 'Bombarda, Bombance, and Bambochel! ' cried Listolier. 'Sunday exists,' resumed Fameuil. 'We are sober,' added Listolier. 'Tholomyès,' remarked Blachevelle, 'contemplate my calmness [mon calme].
' 'You are the Marquis of that,' retorted Tholomyès. This mediocre play upon words produced the effect of a stone in a pool. The Marquis de Montcalm was at that time a celebrated royalist. All the frogs held their peace.
'Friends,' cried Tholomyès, with the accent of a man who had recovered his empire, 'Come to yourselves. This pun which has fallen from the skies must not be received with too much stupor. Everything which falls in that way is not necessarily worthy of enthusiasm and respect.
The pun is the dung of the mind which soars. The jest falls, no matter where; and the mind after producing a piece of stupidity plunges into the azure depths. A whitish speck flattened against the rock does not prevent