But the Vicomte was a mischief-loving soul. He disregarded the rebuke.
"A pretty piece, he called her, but no more than a simple country wench. By name—"
"Oh, have done!" exclaimed Saint-Dantin impatiently.
"But no!" Philip waved him aside. "I am very interested in what M'sieur has to say."
"By name, Cleone. We have it from M. Bancroft that she falls in love with him for his beaux yeux and his so charming manner."
"Ah!" Philip's chin sank into his cupped palms. "Et puis?"
"It is further recorded that one M. Philippe Jettan importuned her with his clumsy attentions, so that M. Bancroft was compelled to teach this M. Philippe a sharp lesson. And when one asks, 'What of the pretty Cleone?' he shrugs his shoulders and replies, very superbly, that he wearied of her as of all others."
Saint-Dantin's crisp voice cut into the sudden silence.
"Philippe, fill your glass. Paul here tells me of a pass he conceived in his duel with Mardry last month. A—"
"I will ask Paul to show me that pass," said Philip. He leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. A moment later he had resumed his interrupted discussion with De Bergeret.