“The word ‘little,’ Monsieur Janicot, has in its ordinary uses no uncivil connotations. Yet, when applied to a person—”
“I entreat your pardon, Monsieur the Duke, for the ill-chosen adjective, and I hastily withdraw it.”
“Which pardon, I need hardly say, I grant with even more haste. I am content, then, Monsieur Janicot. I have achieved my heart’s desire, and I find it”—Florian coughed,—-“beyond anything I ever imagined. But now, alas! the great love between my wife and me draws toward its sweet fruition, and one must be logical. So I comprehend—with not unnatural regret,—that my adored wife will presently be leaving me forever.”
“Ah, to be sure! Then you have already, in this brief period, passed from the pleasures of courtship to the joys of matrimony—?”
“Monsieur, I am a Puysange. We are ardent.”
“—And she is already—?”
“Monsieur, I can but repeat my remark.”
“Eh,” replied Janicot, “you have certainly spared no zeal, you have not slept, in upholding the repute of your race: and this punctilious and loving adherence to the fine old forthright customs of your fathers affects me. There remains, to be sure, our bargain. Yet I am honestly affected, and since this parting grieves you so much, Florian, some composition must be reached—”
“It is undeniable,” said Florian, with a reflective frown, “that my most near acquaintances address me—”
“I accept the reproof, I withdraw the vocative noun, and again I entreat your pardon, Monsieur the Duke.”