"It would be very difficult not to know what time it is here."
"This is rather a tasty rug, don't you think? I have a still finer one in my winter salon. You must use them a great deal in Poland, monsieur le baron?"
"Oh! we have carpets six inches thick in Poland; you sink into them as you walk, just as you do into a feather-bed. I hope to have the honor of sending you a specimen."
"Oh! monsieur le baron!"
At that moment, Monsieur Chambertin appeared, with such guests as he had been able to collect in a hurry, to dine with a great noble at his table. He had found only four persons at liberty: a former village notary and his wife, who were just about to sit down to their own repast, when their neighbor rushed in, greatly excited, and told them of the acquaintances he had made, and that he was to have the honor of entertaining at his house the noble foreigner and the professor of belles-lettres.
At that news, followed by an invitation to dine with the great man, Monsieur Bidault—such was the ex-notary's name—summoned his maid, and said:
"Clear the table, Marianne; put the pâté in the sideboard, the chicken in the pantry, and the fish in the cellar, and keep them all for to-morrow; we dine with my neighbor."
And Madame Bidault ran to her mirror, crying:
"Quick, Marianne! my gown with orange blossoms, my straw hat, my lace collerette; I can't appear in négligé before those gentlemen.—Aren't you going to dress, Monsieur Bidault?"
"Oh! I'll just put on my nut-brown coat, that's all.—Be sure that the fish is kept where it's cool, Marianne."