"I share your feelings in that respect to the full, monsieur le baron," said Ménard, who, enchanted as he was to travel with two men of distinguished rank, was unable to contain himself when he was told that a princess of Hungary had once sat where he was sitting. "This carriage must be very dear to you; and I assure you, monsieur le baron, that it rides very nicely, and that I find it very comfortable——"
At that moment a vicious jolt threw Monsieur Ménard forward, almost into his pupil's lap; but he added, clinging to the door:
"Ubi plura intent in carmine; non ego paucis offendar maculis."
"Vitam impendere vero," rejoined Dubourg.
Frédéric looked out of the door, coughing harder than ever; while Monsieur Ménard said, with a bow:
"I never doubted it, monsieur le baron."
"As I am obliged to remain incognito," said Dubourg, "I have not brought any of my suite with me, and I confess that I am not inclined to complain; I detest all the pomp and parade and etiquette which are the accompaniments of high station. When I travel, I lay it all aside; I am the man of nature, and I play the part of a simple observer. But, by the way, my dear Frédéric, I haven't asked you yet where you are going; would it be presumptuous in me to inquire?"
"No, indeed, my friend; I am leaving Paris because I found there only coquettish or heartless women, who do not understand my way of loving."
"Well, my dear fellow, the trouble is that your way of loving is no longer fashionable! However, this is mere amorous petulance, I see; you are still a little romantic, a little sentimental.—We must cure Frédéric of all such nonsense, eh, Monsieur Ménard?"
"That doesn't come within my functions, monsieur le baron; besides, we must overlook a little something; Seneca says, you know: Non est magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiæ."