Saint Remy alone did not laugh.
[Illustration: CAPITAL AND LABOR IN HARMONY ]
Lucenay, quite habituated to such accidents, preserved a serious countenance; he threw the rope to one of the servants, and said, "The coach!"
When he became a little more calm, the duchess said, "Really, sir, there is no one else in the world but yourself who could have caused a laugh at so lamentable an event."
"Lamentable! you may well say frightful! horrible! Now, only see, since yesterday I have been thinking how many persons there are, even in my own family, who I would rather should have died than poor D'Harville. My nephew Emberval, for instance, who is so tiresome with his stammering; or your aunt Merinville, who is always talking of her nerves, her blues, and who swallows every day, while waiting for her dinner, an abominable potpie, just like a bricklayer's wife! Do you think much of your aunt Merinville?"
"Hush! your grace is crazy!" said the duchess, shrugging her shoulders.
"But it is true," answered the duke; "one would give a hundred indifferent persons for a friend. Is it not so, Saint Remy?"
"Doubtless."
"It is always that old story of the tailor. Do you know, Conrad, the story of the tailor?"
"No, cousin."