"Your servant, monsieur, your servant with all my heart," repeated the merchant, moving away.
The moment, however, that the linendraper reached the door, he seemed to change his mind, scratched himself behind the ear, and returned to the Count of Plouernel.
"Well, my dear fellow?" asked the Count, rather astonished at his return. "What is the matter?"
"The matter is," said the merchant, continuing to scratch the back of his ear, "meseems a thought strikes me—I beg your pardon for the great liberty—"
"Zounds! Speak up! Why should you not have an idea—as well as anybody else?"
"That's true, monsieur, it sometimes happens that the common people, like the noble folks, do not desiderate—ideas."
"Do not desiderate—what the devil does that word mean? I do not remember ever to have heard it."
"It is a good, square, old word, monsieur, which means to lack. Moliere often uses it."
"How, Moliere!" exclaimed the astonished Count. "Do you read Moliere, my good fellow? Indeed, I did notice, while you were speaking, that you often used old turns of expression."
"I shall tell you why, monsieur: When I noticed that you spoke to me in the style that Don Juan uses to Monsieur Dimanche, or Dorante to Monsieur Jourdain—"