“Yes, he’s the one I talked with. He’s only fifty-six, but he seems to be a very sensible fellow.”
Monsieur Gérondif smiled as he inquired:
“Do they receive much company, give balls? Are they the sort of people who pass their life in varietate voluptas?”
“Never a ball, and no volupétas, as you call them. The lady doesn’t care for society, and Monsieur de Noirmont passes his life in his library. So our young marquis doesn’t care to go to the house, although he has been invited.”
“Ah! he has been invited there, has he?”
“Yes; but I’ve often heard him say when he’s dressing in the morning: ‘I’ve no desire to go to that house; it must be horribly dull there.’”
“Are you sure that Monsieur Chérubin said that?”
“Yes; and I’ve heard Monsieur de Monfréville answer: ‘You are very wise; it’s a house which has little to offer that is attractive to a man of your age.’”
Monsieur Gérondif rubbed his hands and asked no more questions. The next day, after procuring Monsieur de Noirmont’s address, he went to his house, asked to speak to his servant, introduced himself as coming from old Jasmin and as having to suggest a lady’s maid for Mademoiselle de Noirmont.
Jasmin was the Nestor of servants; his recommendation was most influential, and that of so serious-minded a man as Monsieur Gérondif seemed to be could only confirm the favorable opinion which was sure to be entertained of Jasmin’s protégée.