“You mean the ‘Marriage of Figaro’?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Why, you are quite literary also, it seems.”
“In my leisure moments I read, your grace.”
“We have, however, M. de Condorcet, who, being a geometrician, should at least be punctual.”
“Yes; but he will be deep in some calculation, from which, when he rouses himself, it will probably be at least half an hour too late. As for the Count Cagliostro, as he is a stranger, and not well acquainted with the customs of Versailles, he will, in all probability, make us wait for him.”
“Well,” said the marshal, “you have disposed of all my guests, except M. de Taverney, in a manner worthy of Homer, or of my poor Raffè.”
The maître-d’hôtel bowed. “I have not,” said he, “named M. de Taverney, because, being an old friend, he will probably be punctual.”
“Good; and where do we dine?”
“In the great dining-room, your grace.”