“Yes, yes, I have it,” said M. Rocheville: “you will come back with me to some friends of mine that live here and we will arrange it.”
“Well, then,” said Roland, “if that is so, will you not do me the honor first of sitting at my table while I finish my meal and sharing a bottle of wine with me?”
M. Rocheville had already drunk a full bottle of champagne, but he had lived on perquisites for so long that he could not resist the temptation of accepting any offer that put him under no pecuniary obligation. And, besides, this was a confoundedly pleasant young man, who had saved him from an undignified situation, and in whose company he would no doubt pass agreeably a couple of hours.
“I should be delighted,” he said; “and do you know my name?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Roland.
With a slightly diffident flourish M. Rocheville handed his card to his young companion. It was for this moment that Roland had arranged his dramatic sequence. He examined the card carefully, then looked up with a surprised, half-modest, half-excited expression on his face.
“You aren’t—you aren’t the Monsieur Rocheville?”
A slow smile spread itself over the ample features of the bureaucrat. It was a long time since his vanity had been so delicately tickled, and after the insults he had received from the waiter this recognition of his value was very pleasant.
“Yes,” he said, “I suppose I am.”
“The Monsieur Rocheville who manages the Ordnance administration?” Roland persisted.