“The most befitting costume for a man about to set off for Havre. There will be no one left in Paris tomorrow.” And hereupon he saluted Malicorne with great ceremony, whose handsome dress gave him the appearance of a prince.
“M. Malicorne,” said De Guiche to his friend. De Wardes bowed.
“M. de Wardes,” said Guiche to Malicorne, who bowed in return. “By the by, De Wardes,” continued De Guiche, “you who are so well acquainted with these matters, can you tell us, probably, what appointments are still vacant at the court; or rather in the prince’s household?”
“In the prince’s household,” said De Wardes, looking up with an air of consideration, “let me see—the appointment of the master of the horse is vacant, I believe.”
“Oh,” said Malicorne, “there is no question of such a post as that, monsieur; my ambition is not nearly so exalted.”
De Wardes had a more penetrating observation than De Guiche, and fathomed Malicorne immediately. “The fact is,” he said, looking at him from head to foot, “a man must be either a duke or a peer to fill that post.”
“All I solicit,” said Malicorne, “is a very humble appointment; I am of little importance, and I do not rank myself above my position.”
“M. Malicorne, whom you see here,” said De Guiche to De Wardes, “is a very excellent fellow, whose only misfortune is that of not being of gentle birth. As far as I am concerned, you know, I attach little value to those who have but gentle birth to boast of.”
“Assuredly,” said De Wardes; “but will you allow me to remark, my dear count, that, without rank of some sort, one can hardly hope to belong to his royal highness’s household?”
“You are right,” said the count, “court etiquette is absolute. The devil!—we never so much as gave it a thought.”