“There is news from Paris, then—”
“The best. They are going to make a new king of Spain, and Leopold of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen is the man they have chosen.”
He spoke with an excitement characteristic of the boy rather than the man. For a moment the significance of his words was lost both upon old Bonot and upon Rosenbad, the brewer. The latter continued to sip his beer, the former to smoke his English cigar.
“Well,” exclaimed old Bonot at last, “and if he is the man, Monsieur—”
The sous-lieutenant regarded him almost with contempt.
“Mon Dieu,” he exclaimed, “you do not understand?”
“I understand nothing.”
The lad shrugged his shoulders.
“Then I cannot teach you,” said he.