“At all events,” said Duplessis, “M. de Mauleon appears to be a philosopher of rare stamp. A Parisian who has known riches and is contented to be poor is a phenomenon I should like to study.”
“You have that chance to-morrow evening, Monsieur Duplessis,” said Enguerrand.
“What! at M. Louvier’s dinner? Nay, I have no other acquaintance with M. Louvier than that of the Bourse, and the acquaintance is not cordial.”
“I did not mean at M. Louvier’s dinner, but at the Duchesse de Tarascon’s ball. You, as one of her special favourites, will doubtless honour her reunion.”
“Yes; I have promised my daughter to go to the ball. But the Duchesse is Imperialist. M. de Mauleon seems to be either a Legitimist, according to Monsieur le Marquis, or an Orleanist, according to our friend De Breze.”
“What of that? Can there be a more loyal Bourbonite than De Rochebriant?—and he goes to the ball. It is given out of the season, in celebration of a family marriage. And the Duchesse de Tarascon is connected with Alain, and therefore with De Mauleon, though but distantly.”
“Ah! excuse my ignorance of genealogy.”
“As if the genealogy of noble names were not the history of France,” muttered Alain, indignantly.