To whom do I speak?
Who are you ?" The Bishop hung his head and replied, "Vermis sum--I am a worm." "A worm of the earth in a carriage ?" growled the conventionary.
It was the conventionary's turn to be arrogant, and the Bishop's to be humble.
The Bishop resumed mildly:-- "So be it, sir.

But explain to me how my carriage, which is a few paces off behind the trees yonder, how my good table and the moor-hens which I eat on Friday, how my twenty-five thousand francs income, how my palace and my lackeys prove that clemency is not a duty, and that '93 was not inexorable." The conventionary passed his hand across his brow, as though to sweep away a cloud.
"Before replying to you," he said, "I beseech you to pardon me.

I have just committed a wrong, sir.

You are at my house, you are my guest, I owe you courtesy.

You discuss my ideas, and it becomes me to confine myself to combating your arguments.