“‘O dog of nature, faithful animal!’”
“I’ve heard of a man of nature; but I confess that this is the first time I ever knew the epithet to be applied to a beast. So you think, my dear Raymond, that animals may be moral perverts, do you?”
“What’s that! why, don’t you see it every day? Look at the poor creatures that have to dance and bow and caper and jump through rings to the notes of the flageolet! They have received an education. The marchioness’s dog did everything she wanted him to; he snapped at everybody who went near his mistress, and he jumped on the table during dinner to eat out of the plates and dishes. That’s the natural instinct, and I maintain that ‘dog of nature’ is a very happy expression.”
“Come, come, Monsieur Raymond; drop your dog and finish dressing. If you spend so much time over every part of your costume, we shall not arrive before midnight.”
“I am at your service. I have got on my boots and breeches; but it seems to me there’s a crease on the left-hand side behind.”
“When you have your coat on, nobody will see it.”
“True; but in walking or dancing, the coat tails spread.”
“Well! what does this crease amount to? do you think that the company is going to keep its eye on your rump?”
“I tell you, a crease may make a great difference in a man’s looks; women notice everything.”
“The woman who takes any notice of such things must have her hands full at a large party!”