“Oh!” cried the latter, “if a letter is all he wants——”
“It is useless, monsieur!” said Pellisson, showing himself at the corner of the little wood, “useless! Go yourself, and speak in your own name.”
“You are right. I will go in, as if to work; let the horses remain harnessed, Pellisson. Entertain my friends, Gourville.”
“One last word of advice, monseigneur,” replied the latter.
“Speak, Gourville.”
“Do not go to the concierge save at the last minute; it is brave, but it is not wise. Excuse me, Monsieur Pellisson, if I am not of the same opinion as you; but take my advice, monseigneur, send again a message to this concierge,—he is a worthy man, but do not carry it yourself.”
“I will think of it,” said Fouquet; “besides, we have all the night before us.”
“Do not reckon too much on time; were the hours we have twice as many as they are, they would not be too much,” replied Pellisson; “it is never a fault to arrive too soon.”
“Adieu!” said the superintendent; “come with me, Pellisson. Gourville, I commend my guests to your care.” And he set off. The Epicureans did not perceive that the head of the school had left them; the violins continued playing all night long.