"Monsieur," said Doctor Dufour, firmly, walking toward the steward, "Madame Bastien, her son, and myself, who am M. Dutilleul's physician, thought we were committing no indiscretion—nor were we—in accepting an offer to show us the château. I have visited several royal residences, monsieur, and think it well to inform you that I have always been politely treated by the person in charge of them."
"That is very possible, monsieur," answered the steward, dryly, "but you doubtless applied to some person who was authorised to give it, for permission to visit these royal residences. You should have addressed a written application to me, the steward, and the sole master here in M. le marquis's absence."
"We must beg monsieur to kindly pardon our ignorance of these formalities," said Madame Bastien, with a mocking smile, as if to show her son how little she minded this pompous functionary's discourtesy.
She took Frederick's arm as she spoke.
"If I had been more familiar with the usages of monsieur's administration," added the doctor, with a sarcastic smile, "monsieur would have received a respectful request that in his omnipotent goodness he would kindly grant us permission to inspect the château."
"Is that intended as a jest, monsieur?" demanded the steward, angrily.
"Somewhat, monsieur," replied the little doctor.
The irascible functionary took a step forward.
"In order not to close this conversation with a jest, monsieur," interposed Madame Bastien, turning to the steward, "permit me to say in all seriousness, monsieur, that I have often read that the house of any great nobleman could always be recognised by the urbanity of his hirelings."
"Well, madame?"