"Yes, yes, we know that," said Edmond, who was beginning to have enough of Chamoureau's singing; but he immediately resumed:
"And the air from Galathée, which Madame Ugalde sang so beautifully—how well Eléonore sang it!
"Déjà dans la coupe profonde
Tout s'éclaire d'un nouveau jour
J'y vois les caprices du monde—"
"Sapristi! is he never going to stop singing?" said Edmond in an undertone to his friend, who had turned his head away to laugh. "For heaven's sake, make him keep quiet a moment!"
"Ah! that will be hard, my boy. When a man who has lost his wife begins to sing, there's no reason why he should stop—I say, Chamoureau, we know that tune, too!"
But Chamoureau did not hear; he was shouting at the top of his voice:
"Verse encore!
Verse encore!"
The two young men were compelled to listen to the whole of the selection, to which Monsieur Chamoureau added some impossible roulades. When he finally ceased, Freluchon said to him:
"Do you know, Chamoureau, you have a most surprising voice for a widower!"
"Oh! I sang much better when my wife was alive. We often sang duets together; there was one she was especially fond of."