“Yes, monseigneur.”
“Did you not like the Rue des Petits-Pères?”
“No, monseigneur; I had too much company there—they made too much noise.”
“But you have no garden here.”
“I did not like the garden.”
The prince bit his lips. “Do you know, comte,” said he, “that many people are asking the king for your place?”
“On what pretext, monseigneur?”
“They say you are dead.”
“Monseigneur, you can answer for it that I am not.”
“I answer for nothing; you bury yourself as though you were dead.”