"There," he said, "write there Duc d'Orléans. That is to frank the letter. You hear?"
I heard well enough; but I was so profoundly upset that I hardly understood what was said.
"There!" said M. de Broval, taking up the letter and looking at it with a satisfied air, "that is all right; but you must learn all these things.... Ernest,"—Ernest was M. de Broval's favourite, and in his genial moments the old courtier called him by his Christian name,—"Ernest, teach M. Dumas to fold letters, to make envelopes and to seal packets." And at these words he took himself off.
The door had scarcely shut before I was begging my comrade Ernest to begin his lessons, and he gave himself up to the task at once with hearty goodwill. Ernest was a first-rate hand at folding, making envelopes and sealing; but I put my whole will into it, and it was not long before I equalled and surpassed my master's skill.
When I gave in my resignation, in 1831, to the Duc d'Orléans, who had become Louis-Philippe I., I had attained to such perfection in the third accomplishment, especially, that the only regret he expressed was this—
"The devil! that is a pity! You are the best sealer of letters I have ever seen."
While I was taking my lesson in folding and sealing under Ernest, Lassagne was reading the papers.
"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I well recollect that!"
"What is it?" I asked.
Instead of answering me, Lassagne read aloud:—"A scene which recalls that of la Fontaine at the first representation of Florentin took place, yesterday evening, at the third performance of the revival of the Vampire. Our learned bibliophile, Charles Nodier, was expelled from Porte-Saint-Martin theatre for disturbing the play by whistling. Charles Nodier is one of the anonymous authors of the Vampire."