The fortune of my new master,
continued la Peyrade,
is quite a history; and I speak of it to Monsieur le directeur
because another person in whom Madame de Godollo was interested
has his marriage closely mixed up in it. That other person is
Monsieur Felix Phellion, the inventor of a star, who, in despair
at not being able to marry that demoiselle whom they wanted to
give to the Sieur la Peyrade whom Madame de Godollo made such a
fool of—
“Scoundrel!” said the Provencal, in a parenthesis. “Is that how he speaks of me? He doesn’t know who I am.”
Corentin laughed heartily and exhorted his pupil to read on.
—who, in despair at not being able to marry that demoiselle . . .
went to England in order to embark for a journey round the world
—a lover’s notion! Learning of this departure, Monsieur Picot,
his former professor, who took great interest in his pupil, went
after him to prevent that nonsense, which turned out not to be
difficult. The English are naturally very jealous of discoveries,
and when they saw Monsieur Phellion coming to embark at the heels
of their own savants they asked him for his permit from the
Admiralty; which, not having been provided, he could not produce;
so then they laughed in his face and would not let him embark at
all, fearing that he should prove more learned than they.
“He is a fine hand at the ‘entente cordiale,’ your Monsieur Henri,” said la Peyrade, gaily.
“Yes,” replied Corentin; “you will be struck, in the reports of nearly all our agents, with this general and perpetual inclination to calumniate. But what’s to be done? For the trade of spies we can’t have angels.”
Left upon the shore, Telemachus and his mentor—
“You see our men are lettered,” commented Corentin.