"I have come to talk business with you. If I am not mistaken, you told me yesterday that you had seen a very fine estate near Mantes, which——"
"Eh! the devil take you and your estates! I was having the most delicious dream; I was coasting with Madame de Gerville, and the sled broke; but instead of being hurt, we were hugging each other so tight, we fell so softly; and I felt the pressure of her body. I touched——"
"I beg your pardon for waking you, my friend," said Robineau, "but——"
"And I," said Alfred, "beg you to pardon me if I go to sleep again."
And he paid no further heed to Robineau, who cried:
"What, my friend! you are going to sleep again just on account of a dream of coasting and such nonsense?"
Seeing that it was useless to speak to him, Robineau decided to take his leave.
"Let’s go to Monsieur Edouard Beaumont’s," he said to himself. "A poet, an author ought to rise early; genius should be up with the lark. At all events, I’ll ask him to breakfast with me, and they say that authors are very susceptible to such invitations."
So he betook himself to Edouard’s lodgings, where he had never been. He knew the address, however, and succeeded in finding it. The young author did not live at a hotel, nor did he occupy a first floor apartment; but he had lodgings in a pleasant house in Rue d’Enghien. The concierge did not stop Robineau, but merely said to him:
"Go up to the fourth floor."