A laugh of approval ran round the table. Every eye was fixed on Will; every mouth complimented him.
The waiters of the restaurant made it their business to serve him the first, with a respectful deference, which disappeared from their faces as soon as they passed the dishes to the next guest.
One of them presented to him a card on a plate. He took it up, and read it, half aloud:
"Doctor Latonne of Paris would be happy if M. Andermatt would be kind enough to give him an interview of a few seconds before his departure."
"Tell him in reply that I have no time, but that I will be back in eight or ten days."
At the same moment, a box of flowers sent by Doctor Honorat was presented to Christiane.
Gontran laughed: "Père Bonnefille is a bad third," said he.
The dinner was nearly over. Andermatt was informed that his landau was waiting for him. He went up to look for his little bag; and when he came down again he saw half the village gathered in front of the door.
Petrus Martel came to grasp his hand, with the familiarity of a strolling actor, and murmured in his ear: "I shall have a proposal to make to you—something stunning—with reference to your undertaking."
Suddenly, Doctor Bonnefille appeared, hurrying in his usual fashion. He passed quite close to Will, and bowing very low to him as he would do to the Marquis, he said to him: