Lucille and Alphonse were so much engaged at the piano as to be apparently oblivious to our departure. I suppose that they were grateful to us in their hearts for going.
My friend did not play long or skilfully, and I, like all ne'er-do-wells, played a fair game in those days.
"Yes," he said, when handsomely beaten, "you evidently play on Sundays. Let us sit down and smoke."
I could not help noticing that the music had ceased. Lucille and Alphonse were probably talking together in low voices at the piano while Madame kindly slept.
"Don't scowl at me like that," said John Turner, "but take one of these cigars."
We sat down, and smoked for some time in silence.
"It is one thing," said my companion at length, "to give a man a fair chance, and another to throw away your own."
"What do you mean?"
"Why marry Mademoiselle to a weak-kneed fellow like Giraud?"
"He is not a weak-kneed fellow," I interrupted, "and can sit a horse as well as any man in the county."