“I don’t know that, but I believe you have. I perceive things, I guess things, quickly. That’s my nature at all times, and I do it much more now.”
“You do it indeed; it is very wonderful,” said Schinkel.
“Mr Schinkel, will you do me the pleasure to go away—I don’t care where—out of this house?” Madame Poupin broke out, in French.
“Yes, that will be the best thing, and I will go with you,” said Hyacinth.
“If you would retire, my child, I think it would be a service that you would render us,” Poupin returned, appealing to his young friend. “Won’t you do us the justice to believe that you may leave your interests in our hands?”
Hyacinth hesitated a moment; it was now perfectly clear to him that Schinkel had some sort of message for him, and his curiosity as to what it might be had become nearly intolerable. “I am surprised at your weakness,” he observed, as sternly as he could manage it, to Poupin.
The Frenchman stared at him an instant, and then fell on his neck. “You are sublime, my young friend—you are sublime!”
“Will you be so good as to tell me what you are going to do with that young man?” demanded Madame Poupin, glaring at Schinkel.
“It’s none of your business, my poor lady,” Hyacinth replied, disengaging himself from her husband. “Schinkel, I wish you would walk away with me.”
“Calmons-nous, entendons-nous, expliquons-nous! The situation is very simple,” Poupin went on.