"Very pleasant indeed, Monsieur le——"
"Call me Casimir, you ass!"
"Yes, Monsieur Casimir. But I don't want you to carry my bag. I am not at all tired. One can travel very comfortably in these first-class carriages. I never want to travel again in anything but a first-class carriage."
"Dry up!" growled Monsieur Casimir.
Hilaire did not speak again. When they reached the Avenue de la Gare, and were abreast of Notre Dame, the servant said to the new-comer:
"Now you can talk."
"Well, that's a good thing," sighed Hilaire, "because I have several things to tell you, Monsieur le Marq——Casimir! First of all, let me thank you for enabling me to realize the greatest dream of my life: a trip to the blue waters of the Mediterranean."
"Did your wife offer any objection to your leaving her. Monsieur Hilaire?"
"She did everything that she could think of to prevent me from getting away. But she had to bow to the inevitable when I told her that I was entrusted by the Government with a secret mission to supply the Mediterranean seaboard with macaroni! . . . But even that didn't pass without some unpleasant remarks, and she foretold a number of dire disasters, such as the train running off the lines, an earthquake, and a few epidemics. But I don't want to think of those disagreeable moments. I am at Nice. I see before me the land of the sun."
"You will see it to-morrow morning," corrected Chéri-Bibi. "Meantime, we will go and have a bit of dinner together. I have nothing to do. My master has given me the evening off!"