“Yes, to be sure. The Comte de Montriveau died at St. Petersburg,” said the Vidame. “I met him there. He was a big man with an incredible passion for oysters.”
“However many did he eat?” asked the Duc de Grandlieu.
“Ten dozen every day.”
“And did they not disagree with him?”
“Not the least bit in the world.”
“Why, that is extraordinary! Had he neither the stone nor gout, nor any other complaint, in consequence?”
“No; his health was perfectly good, and he died through an accident.”
“By accident! Nature prompted him to eat oysters, so probably he required them; for up to a certain point our predominant tastes are conditions of our existence.”
“I am of your opinion,” said the Princess, with a smile.
“Madame, you always put a malicious construction on things,” returned the Marquis.