“Is this a lesson, marquis?” said Count Haga, smiling.
“Oh, no. Only a simple reflection, a general truth.”
“Well, he is gone,” said Madame Dubarry, anxious to bring the conversation back to La Pérouse.
“Yes, he is gone,” replied Cagliostro, “but don’t believe, in spite of his haste, that he will soon embark. I foresee much time lost at Brest.”
“That would be a pity,” said De Condorcet; “this is the time to set out: it is even now rather late—February or March would have been better.”
“Oh, do not grudge him these few months, M. de Condorcet, for, during them, he will at least live and hope.”
“He has got good officers, I suppose?” said Richelieu.
“Yes, he who commands the second ship is a distinguished officer. I see him—- young, adventurous, brave, unhappily.”
“Why unhappily?”
“A year after I look for him, and see him no more,” said Cagliostro, anxiously consulting his glass. “No one here is related to M. de Langle?”