"I'm not hungry yet," said Marcel, as he seated himself, "ordinarily I don't sup until eight o'clock."
"Oh, never mind that, I can eat for both of us, and it needn't prevent our supping at eight o'clock; for I do not wish to make any change in your usual habits. O my friend, what a day's work; if you knew all that had happened to me. At first it began very well; an amorous rendezvous given to me by a lady who fell in love with me through seeing me from her window."
"Pshaw!"
"Give me a wing of that fowl. Yes, my friend, a passion I inspired while watching the flight of some swallows—but—I am used to that. Pour me out something to drink. I'm sure she's a woman of high rank. She sent to me by one of her slaves, I think it was a mulatto, or she must take a devil of a lot of snuff, for her nose was the color of terra-cotta."
"And when are you to meet?"
"Tomorrow evening. But at present, can I think of it? This unfortunate duel has spoiled all my plans. They'll perhaps put me in the Bastile for five or six years."
"Well, you are a fool."
"Oh, do you think that anyone may kill the Prince of Cochin-China like a little shopkeeper of the Marais. My situation is alarming. Give me some pasty, I beg of you."
"Did you satisfy yourself that your man was dead?"
"If you had heard the cry he uttered as he fell, you would not doubt it yourself. It's a cursed day's work; that thief of a water-carrier brought this ill luck upon me!"