“Well, my dear fellows,” said Lucien, assuming a slightly patronizing tone, “the ‘comical fellow’ may become a great public character yet, you see.”
“I wish I may be mistaken; I don’t ask better,” said Michel.
“Are you living with Coralie until you can do better?” asked Fulgence.
“Yes,” said Lucien, trying to look unconscious. “Coralie had an elderly adorer, a merchant, and she showed him the door, poor fellow. I am better off than your brother Philippe,” he added, addressing Joseph Bridau; “he does not know how to manage Mariette.”
“You are a man like another now; in short, you will make your way,” said Fulgence.
“A man that will always be the same for you, under all circumstances,” returned Lucien.
Michel and Fulgence exchanged incredulous scornful smiles at this. Lucien saw the absurdity of his remark.
“Coralie is wonderfully beautiful,” exclaimed Joseph Bridau. “What a magnificent portrait she would make!”
“Beautiful and good,” said Lucien; “she is an angel, upon my word. And you shall paint her portrait; she shall sit to you if you like for your Venetian lady brought by the old woman to the senator.”
“All women who love are angelic,” said Michel Chrestien.