While this was passing in the Rue St. Gilles, the elder M. Taverney was walking in his garden, followed by two footmen, who carried a chair, with which they approached him every five minutes, that he might rest. While doing so, a servant came to announce the chevalier.
“My son,” said the old man, “come, Philippe, you arrive àpropos—my heart is full of happy thoughts; but how solemn you look!”
“Do I, sir?”
“You know already the results of that affair?”
“What affair?”
The old man looked to see that no one was listening, then said, “I speak of the ball.”
“I do not understand.”
“Oh, the ball at the Opera.”
Philippe colored.
“Sit down,” continued his father; “I want to talk to you. It seems that you, so timid and delicate at first, now compromise her too much.”