The usher went out, and Jean Buvat appeared at the door.
"Come in, come in," said Dubois.
"You do me honor, monsieur," murmured Buvat, without moving from his place.
"Shut the door, and leave us," said Dubois to the usher.
The usher obeyed, and the door striking the posterior part of Buvat, made him bound a little way forward. Buvat, shaken for an instant, steadied himself on his legs, and became once more immovable, looking at Dubois with an astounded expression.
In truth, Dubois was a curious sight. Of his episcopal costume he had retained the inferior part; so that he was in his shirt, with black breeches and violet stockings. This disagreed with all Buvat's preconceived notions. What he had before his eyes was neither a minister nor an archbishop, but seemed much more like an orang-outang than a man.
"Well, monsieur," said Dubois, sitting down and crossing his legs, and taking his foot in his hand, "you have asked to speak to me. Here I am."
"That is to say," said Buvat, "I asked to speak to Monseigneur the Archbishop of Cambray."
"Well, I am he."
"How! you, monseigneur?" cried Buvat, taking his hat in both hands, and bowing almost to the ground: "excuse me, but I did not recognize your eminence. It is true that this is the first time I have had the honor of seeing you. Still—hum! at that air of majesty—hum, hum—I ought to have understood—"