"At Madrid."
"Who told you that I shall take you there?"
"I do not know if you will take me there, but I know that I shall go there."
"You, to Madrid! What for?"
"To take the regent."
"You are mad."
"Come, come, chevalier, no big words. You ask my conditions; I tell them you. They do not suit you: good-evening. We are not the worst friends for that."
And Roquefinette rose, took his hat, and was going toward the door.
"What, are you going?"
"Certainly."