I had finished dressing. Pomponne, seeing that I was preparing to go out, planted himself in front of me, like a soldier awaiting the countersign, and said:
"Is monsieur going out?"
"As you see."
"Monsieur has no orders for me?"
"None."
"Will monsieur return to dinner?"
"Come, come, Pomponne! are you going crazy altogether?"
"I don't think so, monsieur."
"Then why do you ask me that question? You know perfectly well that I usually dine at a table d'hôte, and never at home."
"True, monsieur; but you do sometimes dine at home, when you have company, you know.—Ha! ha!"