“So, then, the comtesse is acquainted with your family?” said I, in a whisper.
“Who said so?” replied he, laughing.
“Did she not ask after the Duchesse de Montserrat?”
“And then?”
“And didn't you promise to convey her very kind message?”
“To be sure I did. But are you simple enough to think that either of us were serious in what we said? Why, my dear friend, she never saw my aunt in her life; nor, if I were to hint at her inquiry for her to the duchesse, am I certain it would not cost me something like a half million of francs the old lady has left me in her will,—on my word, I firmly believe she'd never forgive it. You know little what these people of the vieille roche, as they call themselves, are like. Do you see that handsome fellow yonder, with a star on a blue cordon?”
“I don't know him; but I see he's a Marshal of France.”
“Well, I saw that same aunt of mine rise up and leave the room because he sat down in her presence!”
“Oh! that was intolerable.”
“So she deemed his insolence. Come, move on; they 're dancing in the next salon.” And without saying more, we pushed through the crowd in the direction of the music.