"M. Grabot? Certainly," he answered, without blushing. "And have these ten years."
"And you say that he is M. Grabot?" the poor Mayor retorted, his jaw falling ludicrously.
"Certainly. Who should he be?"
The Mayor looked round him, sudden beads of sweat on his brow. "MON DIEU!" be cried. "You are all in it. Here, you, do you know this person?"
La Trape, to whom he addressed himself, shrugged his shoulders. "I should," he said. "The Mayor is pretty well known about here."
"But I am the Mayor--I," Grabot answered eagerly, tapping himself on the breast in the most absurd manner. "Don't you know me, my friend?"
"I never saw you before, to my knowledge," the rascal answered contemptuously; "and I know this country pretty well. I should think that you have been crossing St. Brieuc's brook, and forgotten to say your--"
"Hush!" the stout player interposed with some sharpness. " Let him alone. LE BON DIEU knows that such a thing may happen to the best of us."
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