"Zounds! I do not deny it, monsieur. More than that I can not say."
"Strange," thought the Count of Plouernel to himself, "the fellow has a curiously old-fashioned style of expression. It must be something peculiar to St. Denis Street. He puts me in mind of my old steward Robert, who brought me up, and who spoke like the people of the previous century."
The Count proceeded aloud:
"Forsooth! Coming to think of it, I should pay a visit to dear Madam Lebrenn."
"Monsieur, she is at your service."
"You should know that I contemplate giving a tournament soon in the large yard of my barracks, where my dragoons are to go through all manner of exercises on horseback. You must promise me to come some Sunday to the rehearsal with Madam Lebrenn; and I wish you to accept, without any compliments, a little collation after we leave the place."
"Oh, monsieur, that's too much honor to us—you overwhelm me—"
"Never mind that; you are joking; is it agreed?"
"May I bring my boy along?"
"Zounds! Of course!"