"I don't know, but in some way."
The supposititious marrying man stood perfectly stiff in the middle of the salon, at a loss what attitude to assume, but scratching his nose very often to keep himself in countenance. He had not said a word as yet, but had contented himself with bowing.
"Monsieur le comte doesn't say anything," whispered Madame Putiphar to Dodichet. "Why on earth doesn't he open his mouth?"
"Never you fear; he'll open it at dinner time."
"He seems very proud."
"That will pass away at the table."
"Ask him what he thinks of Juliette."
"Fascinating! he told me when he came in."
"How did he know which was she?"
"What a question! she's the only girl here; all the other women have worn breeches—have seen fire, I mean."