Madame, who was not so preoccupied as her glorious spouse was, remarked this distraction of the page.
“Well?” exclaimed she.
“Well!” repeated Monsieur; “what is going on then?”
A. de Saint-Remy, who had just introduced his head through the doorway, took advantage of the moment.
“Why am I to be disturbed?” said Gaston, helping himself to a thick slice of one of the largest salmon that had ever ascended the Loire to be captured between Paimboeuf and Saint-Nazaire.
“There is a messenger from Paris. Oh! but after monseigneur has breakfasted will do; there is plenty of time.”
“From Paris!” cried the prince, letting his fork fall. “A messenger from Paris, do you say? And on whose part does this messenger come?”
“On the part of M. le Prince,” said the maitre d’hotel promptly.
Every one knows that the Prince de Conde was so called.
“A messenger from M. le Prince!” said Gaston, with an inquietude that escaped none of the assistants, and consequently redoubled the general curiosity.