The servant ushered Cherami into his master's bedroom, and withdrew. Monsieur de la Bérinière, with his rumpled silk nightcap on his head, and his eyes still half-closed, was curled up in bed, covered to his nose by the bedclothes; and in that position he was entirely destitute of charms. So that Cherami, after eying him for a few seconds, said to himself:
"What! it was this old baked apple who was given the preference over my good-looking young friend Gustave! Damnation! women care even more for money than we men do! for our reason for wanting it is to get wives with it, while they take it to throw us over."
While Cherami indulged in this reflection, the count scrutinized his visitor with interest, and said to him at last in a slightly nasal voice:
"My dear monsieur, it's of no use for me to examine you from head to foot, or to search my memory: I do not recall any friend of mine who resembles you in the least."
Cherami bowed with an affable smile, and replied:
"Don't try, monsieur le comte, don't take that trouble; it would be a waste of time; for the fact is that this is the first time I have had the pleasure of being in your company."
"What's that? deuce take me! what does this mean? In that case, you are not the old friend that you held yourself out to be?"
"That is to say, monsieur, I ventured to tell that little falsehood in order to be more certain of obtaining an interview with you this morning."
Monsieur de la Bérinière frowned and scowled, which did not add to his beauty; he scrutinized Cherami with evident suspicion, and rejoined sharply:
"What have you so important, so urgent, to say to me, monsieur, that you presume to disturb me so early, to resort to a trick in order to be admitted?"