"Are we almost there, Père Ledrux?"
"It's just a little farther; Guillot's house—he's Poucette's uncle—is on the other side of the river. But this walk shows you something of Chelles."
"Do we pass the ruins of the Abbey?"
"No, they ain't on our road; after all, you don't see anything of the Abbey; it's been made into a farm-house, and there isn't anything very interesting about it; there's only a few old walls left. But we're going to pass Monsieur Luminot's house. That's another nice one, I tell you; not so well kept as Madame Droguet's; but heaps of land behind: vineyards, arbors, and lots of white grapes."
"Isn't he the gentleman who went to call on the owner of the Tower, to invite him to dinner?"
"Yes; he's a high-liver, is Monsieur Luminot—used to be a wine-merchant; he always has good stuff in his cellar, and he's never stingy about a glass of wine. He's a friend of Madame Droguet and often dines there."
"Does he dance with Monsieur Droguet?"
"I couldn't tell you. I don't believe he's a dancer, he's too fat for that; while Monsieur Droguet, who is very short and thin, keeps his feet going all the time he's talking to you, just exactly as if he had the St. Vitus's dance. He must have had it when he was small, and never got wholly rid of it. He went to Paris not long ago, on purpose to learn a new dance that's all the fashion, so they say—the lance—lances——"
"Lancers?"
"That's it, mamzelle, the lancers! and when he came back, he couldn't sleep for a number of nights; he used to get up and dance the lancers with his chamber-vessel, so that he woke the whole house, and Madame Droguet was obliged to get angry.—Ah! there's Monsieur Jarnouillard's house."