“Didn’t I tell you that he was a wag, a delightful fellow?” cried Raymond.
I was a delightful fellow! I swear that I had taken no pains to be delightful, but I fancy that my companions were not exacting.
Supper was announced, and Grandmaison looked at his watch.
“Three-quarters of an hour,” he said; “she must be ready; I will fetch her. Go into the supper room, and I will bring her to you there.”
He left the room, and Raymond, who was familiar with the locality, led us into a round, elegantly decorated room, in the centre of which was a table laden with everything calculated to flatter the sight, the smell, and the taste.
A handsome clock on a low white marble mantel marked within a few minutes of midnight.
“The devil!” exclaimed Monsieur Rocambolle; “almost twelve o’clock! We shall have mighty little time to enjoy ourselves.”
“Or to eat,” said Zamorin.
“Wait, wait, messieurs,” said Raymond, who always insisted upon finding a way to provide for everything; “I’ll set it back an hour.”
“Well said! well said!” cried all the others. “That devil of a Raymond is never at a loss! he’s as inventive as a girl.”