“It will advance—it is the diligence of the skies bringing inhuman company. Mon Dieu! when one hears the driver crack his whip, and the horses plunge forward, and there follows the rumbling of the wheels!”
“Talk on. I love to hear thee. But take courage first to resume thy pose.”
“Monsieur, I am frightened.”
“What, with me for thy Quixote! I have conquered windmills before now. There—that is to be a good child. Do you find it hard to understand my chatter?”
“Monsieur, on the contrary, is an adept at our language.”
“This is nothing to how I speak it when I have a cold. Still, do you know, I have never quite got over the feeling that it is very clever of a Frenchman to talk French. ‘And so it is,’ Théroigne would say, but you will not. Nicette, have you ever heard speak of the Club of Nature’s Gentry? What a question, is it not? But I like to hear you laugh like little bells.”
“Monsieur, it is a very dull club.”
“Which is the reason you are not a member?”
“A member! oh, mon Dieu! that is not my notion of enjoyment.”
“Great heaven! Here is an astonishing shift of the point of view.”