[Pauses with a bit on his fork.
Des. In with it. [Manuel puts it in his mouth.] Good! You are aware, of course, that my practice and my residence is in the country. I merely came to Paris on your account. [Manuel lets go his fork to shake hands with the Doctor, who puts the fork into his hand again.] Well, among the families with whom I am most intimate, there is one, in particular, of great wealth and importance. The name is Laroque. The family have had for some years past, a managing man, a steward, who never was worth much. Indeed, the only real service he has ever rendered them, he has just performed.
Man. Ran away?
Des. No, died. The moment I heard of this, I wrote to Madame Laroque, asking his situation for a friend of mine. On leaving you, I went to the post office, and found a letter awaiting me, with the full consent of the family to my request. To be sure the position for a man of your rank—
Man. My rank, under present circumstances, is a mockery. I shall, in future, take simply my Christian name of Manuel.
Des. I have only mentioned you in my letters as Monsieur Manuel, anticipating that such would be your wish. You will have your own apartments in a pavilion near the Chateau. Your salary will be so regulated that you will be enabled to lay by a portion for your sister. Now, the only question remaining is, will this suit you?
Man. Admirably! My dear, kind friend, how shall I sufficiently thank you?
Des. Eat your dinner.
Man. But am I fitted for the position?
Des. Pretty well. You've learned one great requisite.