These glances frequently exasperated the pride of Danglars, but this evening he took no notice of them."And what have I to do with your ill-humor?" said the baroness, irritated at the impassibility of her husband; "do these things concern me? Keep your ill-humor at home in your money boxes, or, since you have clerks whom you pay, vent it upon them." Not so," replied Danglars; "your advice is wrong, so I shall not follow it. My money boxes are my Pactolus, as, I think, M. Demoustier says, and I will not retard its course, or disturb its calm. My clerks are honest men, who earn my fortune, whom I pay much below their deserts, if I may value them according to what they bring in; therefore I shall not get into a passion with them; those with whom I will be in a passion are those who eat my dinners, mount my horses, and exhaust my fortune." And pray who are the persons who exhaust your fortune? Explain yourself more clearly, I beg, sir." Oh, make yourself easy!--I am not speaking riddles,. Then he looked at me and I saw his eyes...eyes which were wild and filled with insanity. "Where's my book?" he suddenly demanded, spittle flying from his mouth, "Give me my book..." Then he saw the book on the counter and lunged for it. "Hey," I snapped, moving faster and snatching it away. "Give it to me," he spat out, drool dripping down his chin. "It's MINE! I want it!" "Get out of here," I yelled, getting a bit scared. This guy was obviously crazy, and I didn't want any trouble with a crazy man, "Get out of here now or I'm calling the police..." "Mine!" he shouted as he came at me like a rabid dog. When the old man attacked me, I shoved him back as hard as I could. He staggered backwards and fell to the ground, though he immediately got back to his feet. He glared at me furiously, but slowly stepped back. His eyes darted to the book and I could see that he was thinking about coming after it again. "I'm calling the police," I said, reaching for the phone. The wild eyed old.
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