But Chérubin’s face lighted up when he saw the new arrivals, and he cried:
“Ah! here you are, my dear tutor! How glad I am that you came to Paris too! What a pity that—that you——”
Chérubin did not finish the sentence; he was thinking of Louise, and something which he could not define told him that his innocent playmate would not be in her proper place in the company of those young ladies who danced so prettily. Monsieur d’Hurbain, who was greatly pleased by the tutor’s arrival, because he saw therein an additional safeguard for Chérubin, saluted Monsieur Gérondif with a gracious smile, and said:
“You did well to follow your pupil, monsieur, and we relied upon your doing so. Pray take a seat at the table—there is a place awaiting you.”
“Yes, yes, sit there, Monsieur Gérondif,” cried Chérubin, pointing to the vacant seat. “And you, my good Jasmin, stand by me.”
“I know my duty, monsieur le marquis, and I will take my proper station.”
As he spoke, the old retainer put a napkin over his arm and planted himself behind Chérubin’s chair. As for Monsieur Gérondif, he did not wait for the invitation to be repeated; he pushed Monsieur Poterne aside, took his seat at the table and swallowed the soup that was placed before him, crying:
“This is the banquet of Belshazzar! It is the feast of Eleusis! the wedding festival of Gamache! Never assuredly was there a more sumptuous repast!”
“I say! that gentleman is talking in poetry,” said Malvina to her neighbor.
“Yes,” replied Daréna, “I believe that it was monsieur who wrote the tragedy called the Earthquake of Lisbon.”