“When you know us better, Monsieur Bourget, you will find that we have many peculiarities,” said Léon, pleasantly.
“Do you like this wine? It has been brought out especially in your honour.”
“Ah,” said his father-in-law, eagerly; “it is old?”
“Very old.”
M. Bourget looked at his glass with admiration. To tell the truth, he preferred the sourer vintage to which he was accustomed, but it gave him deep delight to be drinking ancient wine from the cellars of Poissy.
“Nathalie,” said Léon again, “we must show your father your room—”
“And the north wing. That should be the first to be repaired,” announced M. Bourget, loudly. Claire lifted her eyebrows.
“Is Poissy, then, to be taken in hand at once?”
“Certainly. I hope so,” said the ex-builder, in the same strong voice. “As it is, I am afraid there will be difficulties; but if it had been left another winter—well, certainly, it would have been very bad. And the plaster-work in this room, how it has suffered! Still, there is a man I know very clever at such jobs, and if the baron will put it into his hands I can answer that he will make a good job of it, and not be unreasonable.”
Mme. de Beaudrillart rose, abruptly.