What riddles for the country boy! what dreads and pangs for the philosopher who guessed that his manly dignity was in as much danger in Luciennes as at Taverney.
Still he tried to talk to Zamore, but that interesting African, sitting astride of a chair on casters, made it run him round the room a dozen times with a celerity which ought to have shown by anticipation that the velocipede was a practical machine.
Suddenly a bell tinkled and Zamore darted out of the room with as much rapidity as he had shown on the novel quadricycle.
Gilbert would have followed, but on looking through the doorway, he saw the passage so crowded with servants guarding noblemen in gay clothes, that he shivered and slunk back.
An hour passed, without the return of Zamore or Sylvie. Gilbert was longing for human company, when a footman came to take him to Mademoiselle Chon.
Free, after having informed her sister how she had conducted the mission to Lady Bearn, Chon was breakfasting with a hearty appetite, in a loose dressing-gown, in a morning room. She cast a glance on Gilbert without offering him a seat.
"How have you hit off with Zamore?" she inquired, after tossing off a glass of wine like liquid topaz.
"How could I make the acquaintance of a black boy who does not speak, but stares and gulps down candies?"
"I thought you said all were equal?"
"He may be my equal, but I do not think him so," answered Gilbert.