"De Farraud's friends are so very mixed," deplored Philip. "Do you suppose that De Chambert will be present?"
"Nothing is more certain," yawned De Bergeret. "But it will be amusing, and the play will be high, which is all that matters."
"But De Chambert wears puce small-clothes," objected Philip.
"Does he? Mordieu, I'd like to see that! Puce small-clothes, forsooth! And what does our Philippe wear?"
Philip glanced lovingly down at his pearl-grey breeches.
"Grey, and palest pink, with lacings of silver." He slipped out of his gaily-hued robe, and stood up.
De Bergeret levelled his eyeglass at him.
"Parbleu, Philippe! Grey lace!"
Philip shook out his ruffles.
"A sweet conceit, hein? But wait! François, my vest!"