'Ah, I don't read riddles. All I know is, her house is the best thing at Paris; she has secured old Cambaceres' chef de cuisine; has bought up the groom of the chambers of the ex-Emperor; keeps an estafette going on the Strasbourg road for pâtés de foie gras; and is on such terms with the sovereigns that she has their private bands to play at all her parties. Que voulez-vous?'
'Nothing more, indeed!' said O'Grady, laughing. 'Such admirable supremacy in the world of bon ton it would be rank heresy to question further, and I no longer wonder at the active canvass for her invitations.'
'Oui, parbleu!' said the Frenchman gaily. 'If Monsieur the Comte d'Artois does not exert himself, people will be more proud of a ticket to these balls than of the Croix de St. Louis. For my own part, I think of wearing mine over the cordon.'
As he spoke, he flourished his card of invitation in the air, and displayed it in his bosom.
'Madame de Roni, née Cassidy de Kilmainham,' said O'Grady, bursting into a perfect roar of laughter. 'This is glorious, Jack! Did you see this?'
'See! eh? to be sure; and what then?'
But O'Gradys mirth had burst all bounds, and he sat back in an arm-chair laughing immoderately. To all our questions he could give no other reply than renewed bursts of merriment, which, however enjoyed by himself, were very provoking to us.
'He knows her,' whispered Grammont in my ear; 'be assured he knows Madame.'
'Jack, where shall we meet in half an hour?' said Phil at length, jumping up and wiping his eyes.
'Here, if you like,' said I. 'I shall not leave this till you return.'