Monsieur Ménard did not know where he was; this deluge of courtesies and flattery from the Palatine of Rava and Sandomir so confused and delighted him, that his profuse salutations would have landed him in the ditch a second time, had not Frédéric caught him opportunely.
Dubourg finally put an end to the poor man's embarrassment by taking his hand and pressing it hard.
"What a great honor you do me, monsieur le baron," he stammered.—"So you are acquainted with Baron Potoski?" he added, turning to Frédéric.
"Acquainted with him!" was the reply, accompanied by a smile; "why, we are close friends. Dear Dubourg!"
"What do you say? Dubourg?" cried Ménard.
"Yes," hastily interposed the pretended baron; "that is the name I went by at Paris, where I was compelled to maintain the strictest incognito, being intrusted by my government with a secret and very delicate mission."
"I understand, I understand," said Ménard.
"Continue to call me Dubourg, my dear Frédéric; that was my name when I first knew you, and it will always be dear to me."
While Ménard went to inspect the overturned vehicle, Frédéric said to Dubourg, in an undertone:
"The method you employed to join me was a little violent, do you know? You nearly killed poor Ménard and me."