Dudard Character Analysis

Botard: You call that precise? And what, pray, does it mean by “pachyderm”? What does the editor of a dead cats column understand by a pachyderm? He doesn’t say. And what does he mean by a cat?

Dudard: Everybody knows what a cat is.

Botard: Does it concern a male cat or a female? What breed is it? And what color? The color bar is something I feel strongly about. I hate it.

Papillon: What has the color bar has to do with it, Mr. Botard? It’s quite beside the point.

Dudard: Perhaps he felt an urge for some fresh air, the country, the wide-open spaces—perhaps he felt a need to relax. I’m not saying that’s any excuse…

Berenger: I understand what you mean, at least I’m trying to. […]

Dudard: Why get upset over a few cases of rhinoceritis? Perhaps it’s just another disease.

Dudard: What if you do? They don’t attack you. If you leave them alone, they just ignore you. You can’t say they’re spiteful. They’ve even got a certain natural innocence, a sort of frankness. Besides, I walked right along the avenue to get here, and I arrived safe and sound, didn’t I? No trouble at all.

Berenger: If only it had happened somewhere else, in some other country, and we’d just read about it in the papers, one could discuss it quietly, examine the question from all points of view, and come to an objective conclusion. We could organize debates with professors and writers and lawyers, and bluestockings and artists and people. And the ordinary man in the street as well—it would be very interesting and instructive. But when you’re involved yourself, when you suddenly find yourself up against the brutal facts, you can’t help feeling directly concerned—

Dudard: I consider it’s silly to get worked up because a few people decide to change their skins. They just didn’t feel happy in the ones they had. They’re free to do as they like.

Berenger: We must attack the evil at the roots.

Dudard: The evil! That’s just a phrase. Who knows what is evil and what is good? It’s just a question of personal preferences. […]

Berenger: There you are, you see. If our leaders and fellow citizens all think like you, they’ll never take any action.

Berenger: A rhinoceros! […] Mr. Papillon a rhinoceros! I can’t believe it. I don’t think it’s funny at all. […] Why did’t you tell me before?

Dudard: Well, you know you’ve no sense of humor. I didn’t want to tell you. […] I didn’t want to tell you because I knew very well you wouldn’t see the funny side, and it would upset you. You know how impressionable you are.

Berenger: I’m not very well up in philosophy. I’ve never studied; you’ve got all sorts of diplomas. That’s why you’re so at ease in discussion, whereas I never know what to answer—I’m so clumsy. […] But I do feel you’re in the wrong—I feel it instinctively—no, that’s not what I mean, it’s the rhinoceros which has instinct—I feel it intuitively, yes, that’s the word—intuitively.

Dudard: If he was a genuine thinker, as you say, he couldn’t have got carried away. He must have weighed all the pros and cons before deciding.

Daisy: What he said was, “We must move with the times.” Those were his last human words.

Berenger: They should be all rounded up in a big enclosure, and kept under strict supervision.

Dudard: That’s easier said than done. The animal’s protection league would never allow it.

Daisy: And besides, everyone has a close relative or a friend among them, and that would make it even more difficult.

Berenger: So everybody’s mixed up in it.

Berenger: He’s joined up with them. Where is he now?

Daisy: (Looking out of the window.) With them.

Berenger: Which one is he?

Daisy: You can’t tell. You can’t recognize him any more.

Berenger: They all look alike, all alike.

Botard: You call that precise? And what, pray, does it mean by “pachyderm”? What does the editor of a dead cats column understand by a pachyderm? He doesn’t say. And what does he mean by a cat?

Dudard: Everybody knows what a cat is.

Botard: Does it concern a male cat or a female? What breed is it? And what color? The color bar is something I feel strongly about. I hate it.

Papillon: What has the color bar has to do with it, Mr. Botard? It’s quite beside the point.

Dudard: Perhaps he felt an urge for some fresh air, the country, the wide-open spaces—perhaps he felt a need to relax. I’m not saying that’s any excuse…

Berenger: I understand what you mean, at least I’m trying to. […]

Dudard: Why get upset over a few cases of rhinoceritis? Perhaps it’s just another disease.

Dudard: What if you do? They don’t attack you. If you leave them alone, they just ignore you. You can’t say they’re spiteful. They’ve even got a certain natural innocence, a sort of frankness. Besides, I walked right along the avenue to get here, and I arrived safe and sound, didn’t I? No trouble at all.

Berenger: If only it had happened somewhere else, in some other country, and we’d just read about it in the papers, one could discuss it quietly, examine the question from all points of view, and come to an objective conclusion. We could organize debates with professors and writers and lawyers, and bluestockings and artists and people. And the ordinary man in the street as well—it would be very interesting and instructive. But when you’re involved yourself, when you suddenly find yourself up against the brutal facts, you can’t help feeling directly concerned—

Dudard: I consider it’s silly to get worked up because a few people decide to change their skins. They just didn’t feel happy in the ones they had. They’re free to do as they like.

Berenger: We must attack the evil at the roots.

Dudard: The evil! That’s just a phrase. Who knows what is evil and what is good? It’s just a question of personal preferences. […]

Berenger: There you are, you see. If our leaders and fellow citizens all think like you, they’ll never take any action.

Berenger: A rhinoceros! […] Mr. Papillon a rhinoceros! I can’t believe it. I don’t think it’s funny at all. […] Why did’t you tell me before?

Dudard: Well, you know you’ve no sense of humor. I didn’t want to tell you. […] I didn’t want to tell you because I knew very well you wouldn’t see the funny side, and it would upset you. You know how impressionable you are.

Berenger: I’m not very well up in philosophy. I’ve never studied; you’ve got all sorts of diplomas. That’s why you’re so at ease in discussion, whereas I never know what to answer—I’m so clumsy. […] But I do feel you’re in the wrong—I feel it instinctively—no, that’s not what I mean, it’s the rhinoceros which has instinct—I feel it intuitively, yes, that’s the word—intuitively.

Dudard: If he was a genuine thinker, as you say, he couldn’t have got carried away. He must have weighed all the pros and cons before deciding.

Daisy: What he said was, “We must move with the times.” Those were his last human words.

Berenger: They should be all rounded up in a big enclosure, and kept under strict supervision.

Dudard: That’s easier said than done. The animal’s protection league would never allow it.

Daisy: And besides, everyone has a close relative or a friend among them, and that would make it even more difficult.

Berenger: So everybody’s mixed up in it.

Berenger: He’s joined up with them. Where is he now?

Daisy: (Looking out of the window.) With them.

Berenger: Which one is he?

Daisy: You can’t tell. You can’t recognize him any more.

Berenger: They all look alike, all alike.