Gaillard poked his nose into an adjoining room; it was a bedroom. He observed that the washing-jug was cracked.
“Well,” said Toto, “what do you think of it all?”
“I envy you.”
CHAPTER V.
ANGÉLIQUE.
“I envy you,” said Gaillard as they returned to civilization; “I envy you because you are young, rich, and a Prince. I do not envy you for these things, but rather for the enjoyment they can give you. To be twenty-two, poor, and in love—what can be better than that? You are twenty-two, and in love, and you are so rich that you can allow yourself the luxury of being poor. What a change for you, and how you will taste it all! Poverty falls to the poor; they have it every day, but they do not enjoy it. It is like the old women who sell sugar-plums; they do not eat their own wares. But with you it will be different; you will bring an unsated palate. Your present, contrasted with your past, will be as a naked man standing against a background of old-gold brocade. Extraordinary being to have found out a new pleasure in this jaded age, and that pleasure lying unnoticed before the eyes of all men. Look at that beggar man—are not his clothes the color of withered leaves? I have seen greens in old coats that no painter has ever seized. You would never guess my deep acquaintance with the ways of the poor, but I have been thrown in their way. Toto, I have a girlfriend.”
“Better say a dozen.”
“I know girls pursue me, but I cast them off. Angélique is not of the common order.”
“Who is Angélique, for goodness’ sake?”