“Come along, Monsieur Quatrebarbe.”
Monsieur Gérard Quatrebarbe was the son of the diocesan architect. Since he had broken the windows of Mayer, the bootmaker, who was supposed to be a Jew, he was received everywhere in society. He had a good voice but he missed his cues, and René Chartier cast furious glances at him.
“You are not in your place, Duchess,” said Largillière.
“No, I dare say not!” replied the Duchess.
René Chartier went up to young Bonmont and whispered in his ear:
“For goodness’ sake don’t give the Duchess any more cocktails, she will spoil everything.”
Largillière was grumbling too; the choruses were confused and unimpressive. However, they attacked the trio.
“Monsieur Lacrisse, you are not in your place.”
Joseph Lacrisse was not in his place, and it is only fair to say that it was not his fault. Madame de Bonmont was perpetually enticing him into corners and murmuring to him:
“Tell me you love me still; if you don’t still love me I feel I shall die!”