“Ah, Monsieur Philosophe, so I meet you again! What are you after here among idlers? Do you likewise lose your time in peg-pushing? (Thus he denominated chess and draughts.)
“I.—No, but when I have nothing else to do, it is a momentary diversion to see whether they move aright.
“He.—A singular diversion, indeed. Leave out Philidor and Légal—the others know nothing.
“I.—And Monsieur de Bussi; what say you to him?
“He.—As chess-player, that he is what Mlle. Clairon is as actress; both know as much of their play as one can learn.
“I.—You are hard to please. I observe that none but preëminent men meet your approbation.
“He.—Ay, at chess and draughts, poetry, eloquence, music, and such like trumperies. Who wants mediocrity in these cases?
“I.—I almost agree with you. But many must attempt these arts in order that the man of genius may overtop them. Thenceforth he is one among many. But I have not seen you for an age. I never think of you but when I see you. Yet I am rejoiced whenever I recover you. What have you been about?
“He.—That which you and the others are about—good, bad, and naught. I have moreover, hungered and eaten if occasion served. Then I was sometimes athirst, and often drank; yes, and my beard grew and I was shaved.
“I.—There you were wrong; for the beard is all you lack in order to be a sage.