The old rake and the languid young man questioned Grandmaison concerning his new mistress’s features; and the host went into her charms in detail, promising to inform them more fully on the morrow.
“What shall we call her?” inquired Raymond.
“Her name is Madame Saint-Léon. A pretty name, isn’t it, messieurs?”
“Yes, very pretty. I think a great deal of the name myself.”
“Has she any children?”
“Idiot! didn’t I tell you that she was almost a novice?”
“True; but almost doesn’t mean that——”
“Nonsense! hold your tongue, Raymond; you insult innocence!” said Monsieur Rocambolle, the old rake. “I am sure that Grandmaison found this woman at Les Vertus.”
Enchanted by his jest, Monsieur Rocambolle turned, with a laugh, to the young man; who laughed with him, showing two or three discolored teeth, his only remaining ones.
Amid the general clatter, as I did not wish to seem bored in the agreeable company of these gentry, I said at random whatever came into my head; and sometimes, without any effort to that end, I had the pleasure of making the merry fellows laugh.