“Who is that Montalais?” inquired De Wardes, “and that La Valliere? What country-town have we had sent here?”
“Montalais?” said the chevalier,—“oh, I know her; she is a good sort of a girl, whom we shall find amusing enough. La Valliere is a charming girl, slightly lame.”
“Ah! bah!” said De Wardes.
“Do not be absurd, De Wardes, there are some very characteristic and ingenious Latin axioms about lame ladies.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” said De Guiche, looking at Raoul with uneasiness, “be a little careful, I entreat you.”
But the uneasiness of the count, in appearance at least, was not needed. Raoul had preserved the firmest and most indifferent countenance, although he had not lost a word that passed. He seemed to keep an account of the insolence and license of the two speakers in order to settle matters with them at the earliest opportunity.
De Wardes seemed to guess what was passing in his mind, and continued:
“Who are these young ladies’ lovers?”
“Montalais’s lover?” said the chevalier.
“Yes, Montalais first.”