"He's a cousin of the house. He and M. le Comte are as thick as thieves. Before we came to Paris they lodged together. So when M. le Comte came here he brought M. de Grammont. Dare I speak ill of Monsieur's cousin, Félix? For I would say, at the risk of a broken head, that he is a sour-faced churl. You cannot deny it. You never saw him."
"No, nor M. le Comte, either."
"Why, you have seen M. le Comte!"
"Never. The only time he came to St. Quentin I was laid up in bed with a strained leg. I missed the chase. Don't you remember?"
"Why, you are right; that was the time you fell out of the buttery window when you were stealing tarts, and Margot got after you with the broomstick. I remember very well."
He was for calling up all our old pranks at the château, but it was little joy to me to think on those fortunate days when I was Monsieur's favourite. I said:
"Nay, Marcel, you were telling me of M. le Comte and the quarrel."
"Oh, as for that, it is easy told. You see M. le Comte and this Grammont took no interest in Monsieur's affairs, and they had very little to say to him, and he to them. They had plenty of friends in Paris, Leaguers or not, and they used to go about amusing themselves. But at last M. de Grammont had such a run of bad luck at the tables that he not only emptied his own pockets but M. le Comte's as well. I will say for M. le Comte that he would share his last sou with any one who asked."
"And so would any St. Quentin."
"Oh, you are always piping up for the St. Quentins."