"All right; do not let us lose any time. It is now one o'clock; let us get to bed as quickly as possible and sleep until six; then let us start at seven, and sleep, if we can manage it, at Manteuil."
"Good-night"
"Good-night...."
A quarter of an hour later, we were rivalling one another who could go to sleep the soundest.
Next day, or rather the same day, at eight o'clock, we had passed Villette; at three o'clock, we were dining at Dammartin, under the same conditions as we had lunched there; at seven, we were having our supper at Manteuil; and on Wednesday at one o'clock, loaded with two hares and six partridges,—the result of the economy we had exercised by our hunting of the previous night and day,—we entered Crespy, giving our last twenty sous to a poor beggar. Paillet and I parted at the entry to the large square. I went to Maître Lefèvre's by the little passage, and up to my room to change my things. I called Pierre, through the window, and asked him for news of M. Lefèvre. M. Lefèvre had returned in the night. I gave my game to the cook, went into the office and slipped into my place. My three office companions were all in their places. Nobody asked me a question. They thought I had just returned from one of my usual excursions, only one that had lasted rather longer than usual. I enquired if M. Lefèvre had asked any questions about me. M. Lefèvre had wanted to know where I was; they had replied that they did not know, and the matter had ended there. I drew my papers from my desk and set to work. A few minutes later, M. Lefèvre appeared. He went to the head clerk, gave him some instructions, and then returned to his room, without even having seemed to notice my presence, which led me to think he had taken particular notice of my absence. Dinner-time arrived. We sat down; all went on as usual; save that, after dinner, when I was rising to go, M. Lefèvre said to me—
"Monsieur Dumas, I want a few words with you."
I knew the storm was about to burst, and I resolved to keep myself well in hand.
"Certainly, monsieur," I replied.
The head clerk and the office boy, who shared the master's table with me, discreetly withdrew. M. Lefèvre pointed to a chair opposite his own, on the other side of the fireplace. I sat down. Then M. Lefèvre lifted his head as a horse does under the martingale, a gesture which was customary with him, crossed his right leg over his left leg, held up one leg till the slipper fell, took his gold snuff-box, inhaled a pinch of snuff, drew a dignified breath, and then, in a voice all the more threatening because of its dulcet tones, he said, scratching his right foot with his left hand, his most cherished habit—
"Monsieur Dumas, have you any knowledge of mechanics?"