Barroux had quitted his seat to ascend the tribune.

He there drew himself erect, throwing his head back after his usual fashion.

There was a haughty, majestic, slightly sorrowful expression on his handsome face, which would have been perfect had his nose only been a little larger.

He began to express his sorrow and indignation in fine flowery language, which he punctuated with theatrical gestures.

His eloquence was that of a tribune of the romantic school, and as one listened to him one could divine that in spite of all his pomposity he was really a worthy, tender-hearted and somewhat foolish man.