"I never heard those words at the Bouffes."
Thereupon the dandy laughed heartily, and Florville exclaimed:
"Didn't you know that Dumarsey was talking Latin to you?"
"Latin! How do you suppose I could understand him, then? What do I know about Latin—a dead language! They don't sing in Latin at the Bouffes."
"Monsieur le vicomte's horse is saddled," said a little groom, putting his nose in at the door.
"All right!—Let us go, messieurs.—By the way, Lépinette, have you filled my pockets with cigarettes?"
"Yes, monsieur, I have put some everywhere, even in your fob."
"That's right.—To horse, messieurs!"
XX
THE THIRD PETTICOAT
Two days after this riding party, Edward de Sommerston was in his smoking room, stretched out on a divan, smoking and intensely bored, as usual, and watching the puffs of smoke ascend and float about the room until they formed a fog so dense that one could hardly see from one side to the other. Suddenly the door was softly opened; Lépinette appeared, and, trying to distinguish his master through the clouds that filled the room, said in an undertone: