"With Madame de Versac! That's very extraordinary, for I saw her yesterday at her country house."
"You saw her! What do you mean? Do you know her?" cried Dubourg, in a voice that did not at all resemble an invalid's.
"Madame de Versac came to my father's house several times, when she was in Paris last year. In the summer, she lives at her country house. I saw her there yesterday, I tell you, and she reproved me gently for not coming there to stay with her; she certainly did not come back to the city."
"Great God! what do I hear? How old is this marchioness?"
"Not over twenty-eight; her town house is on Place Bellecour."
"Ten thousand cigars! that was a contraband marchioness! What an infernal fool, not to have discovered it!"
Dubourg jumped up and down in his bed, rolled himself up in the bedclothes, snatched off his nightcap and threw it on the floor, while Ménard cried:
"Monsieur le baron is mad; I am going to fetch an apothecary!"
The tutor left the room, and Frédéric was not sorry, for it gave him an opportunity to have an explanation with Dubourg; but for several minutes he absolutely refused to keep still; he was in a frenzy at the recollection of the soi-disant counts and chevaliers. He dressed in hot haste, swearing that he would find his baron with the watch-charms, his threadbare chevalier, and his blackleg with lace cuffs; that he would break the baroness's remaining teeth, beat the viscountess, and horsewhip madame la marquise.
At last, Frédéric succeeded in making himself heard.