“Parbleu! because it is too early to get up.”
Château-Foix could not help smiling. “That is a matter of opinion, it seems to me,” he retorted.
“Oh, I did not suppose that our views would coincide,” returned the Vicomte pleasantly. “But whereas you, my dear Gilbert, are a stranger in Paris of late, and may find enough of novelty in the present state of affairs to drag you from your bed at unseasonable hours, I, as an inhabitant, am far from sharing your enthusiasm. It has lost the charm of novelty for me. But you can see your beloved tiers-état behaving here in a way you never dreamed of at Chantemerle. Go through the Faubourg Saint Antoine. Have you been to the Cordeliers for a little oratory? If so, and you happen to have heard Marat, Desmoulins, or Danton, you might go to the Halles, and compare the oratory there. But you must forgive my not accompanying you, for I assure you that the daily repetition of these demonstrations has become excessively boring to me.”
Before Gilbert had time to reply to this unusual view of the state of Paris the solemn old Jasmin entered with the chocolate.
“Really, my dear Louis,” remarked his cousin as the door closed, “it had not occurred to me to make a tour round Paris to see the sights! And so, with the foundations of the world crumbling around you, you stay in bed because you are—bored!”
“Or sleepy,” finished the Vicomte calmly. “Take some chocolate, Gilbert—no, I don’t want any—and tell me then how you propose to amuse yourself to-day.”
The Marquis took up his cup, and leaning back in his chair, crossed his legs. “Louis,” he said with some emphasis, but with perfect good-humour, “if you are trying to see how far you can play on my credulity with regard to yourself, I warn you to desist. Neither of us, I imagine, is a fool——”
Saint-Ermay interrupted him with a laugh. “I am by no means sure about myself. I sometimes think,” he said, looking at his cousin with an appearance of great candour, “that I am moving in that direction. In which case,” he concluded politely, “we should naturally part company.”
The Marquis acknowledged this compliment with an ironic bow. “I think you are mistaken about yourself,” he returned. “You depreciate your capacities unduly. For instance, you really know perfectly well that your present position is—to say the least—insecure.”
It was not without misgivings that he thus approached the delicate topic. The Vicomte stretched himself luxuriously among his down and draperies, and clasped both hands at the back of his head.