Catherine continued to sing:
“Je sais bien qu’on murmurera
Que Paris nous chansonnera
Mais tant pis pour le sot vulgaire
Laire lan laire.”
And my dear tutor went on:
“—is thought. And concerning that, it is not indifferent to know what idea the Egyptians had formed of the nature of metals and the qualities of the primitive substance.”
The Abbé Jerôme Coignard, having come to the end of his discourse, emptied a big glass of wine, while Catherine sang:
“Par l’épée ou par le fourreau
Devenir due est toujours beau
Il n’importe le maniére
Laire lan laire.”
“Abbé,” said M. d’Anquetil, “you do not drink, and in spite of such abstinence you lose your reason. In Italy, during the War of Succession, I was under the orders of a brigadier who translated Polybius. But he was an idiot. Why translate Zosimus?”
“If you want my true reason,” replied the abbé, “because I find some sensuality in it.”
“That’s something like!” protested M. d’Anquetil. “But in what can M. Tournebroche, who at this moment is caressing my mistress, assist you?”
“With the knowledge of Greek I have given him.”