M. de Morin did not condescend to notice this by-play, and his valet, wishing, probably, to attract attention, became somewhat more demonstrative in his grief. At last the young man, whose ears had been saluted by a sigh deeper than usual, asked Joseph what was the matter with him.
"I am broken hearted, sir, broken hearted," was the reply.
"Really? And so you are broken hearted," said M. de Morin, with the utmost indifference, and buttoning his wristbands. "What has happened to you to make you so broken hearted? Have you been giving way to reflection during the night, and has the camel I promised you frightened you?"
"No, sir, it is not the camel which distresses me. I shall welcome that noble animal with open arms. At this moment, sir, I am not thinking of myself; all my thoughts are with you."
"I should not have thought so, Joseph, seeing that you have handed me a pair of black trousers, which, you will admit, are not quite the thing at 5 a.m."
"That depends, sir. In certain momentous circumstances in life black trousers are not to be despised, nor a high waistcoat either which hides the shirt, and does not allow a single spot of white to be seen or to serve as an aim."
This time M. de Morin was completely puzzled.
"What on earth do you mean," he exclaimed, "by your spots of white and your aims? Has the idea of travelling in Africa turned your brain? Put that razor down—you make me nervous."
"Do not be uneasy, sir. My good sense has not deserted me. I should not suffer as I do if I had lost my reason."
"Look here, Joseph. Though I am pretty well accustomed to your eccentricities, you are going a little too far now, and I insist on your explaining yourself, and that without delay. I did not get up at five o'clock in the morning for the sole purpose of giving you an audience."