“Well, illustrious philosopher, do you wish me to announce your discourse?” asked the gay-hearted pastor.
“Not just yet,” replied Maître Frantz, almost in a whisper, while a blush suffused his venerable cheeks—“not just yet. I have not quite prepared my exordium.”
“The deuce! You’ll be some time about it. If you’ll allow me, I’ll look through this newspaper, and, when you are ready, you’ll only have to tell me.”
Mathéus nodded affirmatively, and drew from his pocket the Synopsis of his Anthropo-Zoology.
The good man was not wanting in prudence: on the contrary, his timid nature, in the course of its successive transformations, had accustomed itself to prick up its ears, and it might be said that, under certain circumstances, he slept with his eyes open. Therefore, all the while he was looking over the Synopsis, he closely watched all that was passing in the room, and even listened attentively to what was being said right and left.
New faces appeared every moment: now Monsieur Stoffel, the tax-collector, with his double gold chain and trinkets; now Hospos, the chemist, whose loud voice was heard out in the entrance-hall; now Monsieur Seypel, the Garde Général, all the seams of his coat embroidered with silver. All these gentlemen stopped for a moment at the bar, and addressed a few sprightly speeches to the fair Olympia, who tossed her head and smiled with infinite grace. They then seated themselves and called for newspapers.
The conversation grew more animated, and turned upon the ball to be given by Madame la Sous-Préfète the names of persons who were to be present being mentioned. It was to be a grand entertainment for the wind-up of the season. A pâté de Strasbourg had been sent for. Monsieur le Garde Général smiled significantly. When partridges and quails were mentioned to him, he neither said “Yes” nor “No.” Then came confidences. Cards of invitation were drawn from waistcoat-pockets!
“Ah! you are going, my dear fellow! I’m delighted!”