"Ah well, since there is no grey cloak. Now the gossip. First of all, my debts and debtors."
"Monsieur de Saumaise," said Breton, "has remitted the ten louis he lost to you at tennis."
"There's a friend; ruined himself to do it. Poetry and improvidence; how they cling together!"
"Brisemont, the jeweler, says that the garters you ordered will come to one hundred and ten pistoles. But he wants to know what the central gem shall be, rubies or sapphires surrounding."
"Topaz for the central gem, rubies and diamonds for the rest. The clasps must match topaz eyes. And they must be done by Monday."
"Monsieur's eyes are grey," the lackey observed slyly.
"Rascal, you are asking a question!"
"No, Monsieur, I was simply stating a fact. Plutarch says …"
"Plutarch? What next?" in astonishment.
"I have just bought a copy of Amyot's translation with the money you gave me. Plutarch is fine, Monsieur."