“How do you do, my dear M. Raindal!” he exclaimed, as he pushed his chair back. “I am delighted to see you. I am receiving you without any ceremony.... You will have coffee with me, wo you? A cigar?” he added, holding out a box of fat Havanas.
“If you please,” the ex-official replied.
There was a pause during which M. Raindal gravely lit his cigar, the red and gold paper band of which he had not dared to remove. He was, moreover, affected by the majestic aspect of the dining-room. The ceilings were as high as those of a museum gallery; the windows were enormous. On all the walls hung old tapestries with fading scenes, emphasized at intervals by antique chiseled copper ornaments. M. de Meuze himself, despite his brown coat and his big meerschaum pipe, well fitted into the atmosphere of high elegance which the surrounding objects gave to the room.
“Well, M. Raindal, what is your news?” he said between two puffs.
“Well, Monsieur le Marquis! Nothing of importance!” Cyprien replied with embarrassment.
M. de Meuze stared at him out of his piercing little green eye.
“I wager you came to talk business with me.”
Cyprien grinned but did not deny it.
“Ah ha!” the marquis exclaimed victoriously. “What did I say?... I felt that at once.... I have but one eye but I can see as well as if I had two....”
Coquettishly he caressed the white wings of his whiskers and, going to the window, lifted up a curtain.