"What about you? Anything new since Henri IV.?"
"Don't mention that awful hole, old boy. Talk about instructing youth! I should have made a mess of things if I'd listened to them...."
He, too, added:
"What about you?"
"I couldn't help having to listen to them. I'm still listening to them," I replied bitterly. "But what's your job now? You don't seem to be having a bad time."
"I've been extraordinarily lucky, my boy. I was appointed Private Secretary to a Deputy, and six months later he became Minister for Foreign Affairs. I followed him to the Foreign Office. There we are! But come out of your corner and I'll introduce you to the friends of Ministers."
Ribeyre did indeed introduce me.
"My friend Vignerte—a worker if there ever was one. Got his diploma and Lord knows what else—Agrégé, perhaps? No—so much the better for you. Who knows it better than we three, not to mention Clotilde."
Clotilde nodded stiffly and gave me an ironical glance.
I was on the rack. This panegyric was so suited to my poor, baggy trousers! It was very charming of them all the same, though perhaps this praise of my brains was more a compliment to their own tact and skill in dealing with any situation.