"I have invited some of our friends to come and breakfast with us!"
"Really! Well, that is capital! Bravo, marquis,—bravissimo! ultra-bravissimo!" exclaimed M. de Lucenay, in a lusty voice, and beating the sofa cushions with his cane with all his might. "And who shall we have,—Saint-Remy? No, I recollect; he has been in the country for some days. What the devil can he be pattering about in the country in the mid-winter for?"
"Are you sure he is not in Paris?"
"Quite sure; for I wrote to him to go out with me, and learned he was absent; and so I fell back upon Lord Douglas, and Sézannes."
"Nothing can be better; they breakfast with us."
"Bravo! bravo! bravo!" exclaimed M. de Lucenay again, with lusty lungs; and then, wriggling and twisting himself on the sofa, he accompanied his cries with a series of fishlike bounds and springs, which would have made a boatman envious. The acrobatic exercises of the Duke de Lucenay were interrupted by the arrival of M. de Saint-Remy.
"There was no occasion to ask if Lucenay was here," said the viscount, gaily; "one could hear him below stairs."
"What! Is it you, graceful sylvan, country swain,—wolf of the woods?" exclaimed the duke, in his surprise, and sitting up suddenly. "I thought you were in the country!"
"I came back yesterday; and, having this instant received D'Harville's invitation, I have hastened hither, quite delighted to make one in so pleasant a surprise." And M. de Saint-Remy extended his hand to M. de Lucenay, and then to the marquis.
"Let me thank you for your speed, my dear Saint-Remy. Is it not natural? The friends of Lucenay ought to rejoice in the fortunate result of this duel, which, after all, might have had very serious results."