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- Александр Дюма
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There
is
nothing
more
galling
to
angry
people
than
the
coolness
of
those
on
whom
they
wish
to
vent
their
spleen
.
The
expense
being
once
incurred
,
one
does
not
like
to
lose
it
;
one
's
passion
is
roused
,
and
one
's
blood
boiling
,
so
it
would
be
labour
lost
not
to
have
at
least
a
nice
little
row
.
Gryphus
,
therefore
,
on
seeing
that
Cornelius
did
not
stir
,
tried
to
attract
his
attention
by
a
loud
--
"
Umph
,
umph
!
"
Cornelius
was
humming
between
his
teeth
the
"
Hymn
of
Flowers
,
"
--
a
sad
but
very
charming
song
,
--
"
We
are
the
daughters
of
the
secret
fire
Of
the
fire
which
runs
through
the
veins
of
the
earth
;
We
are
the
daughters
of
Aurora
and
of
the
dew
;
We
are
the
daughters
of
the
air
;
We
are
the
daughters
of
the
water
;
But
we
are
,
above
all
,
the
daughters
of
heaven
.
"
This
song
,
the
placid
melancholy
of
which
was
still
heightened
by
its
calm
and
sweet
melody
,
exasperated
Gryphus
.
He
struck
his
stick
on
the
stone
pavement
of
the
cell
,
and
called
out
,
--
"
Halloa
!
my
warbling
gentleman
,
do
n't
you
hear
me
?
"
Cornelius
turned
round
,
merely
saying
,
"
Good
morning
,
"
and
then
began
his
song
again
:
--
