“What did you suppose, then? You professed to know the news.”
“I spoke of something else with which Paris is also occupied to-day.”
The fool did not understand, and his curiosity was awakened.
“More news! Where the deuce could you learn news? What is it, my dear sir? Do you know what it is, Chaplain? Do let me hear all about it, I beg. I like news, you see, to relate to the President; it amuses him.”
He looked from one to the other, and obtained no answer.
“Well,” said he, “what are you thinking of?”
“I am thinking,” said I, “that I shall be past thinking, this evening.”
“Oh, that’s it,” returned he. “Come, come, you are too sad. Mr. Castaing conversed on the day of his execution.”
Then, after a pause, he continued: “I accompanied Mr. Papavoine on his last day. He wore his otter-skin cap, and smoked his cigar. As for the young men of La Rochelle, they only spoke among themselves, but still they spoke. As for you, I really think you are too pensive, young man.”
“Young man?” I repeated. “I am older than you; every quarter of an hour which passes makes me a year older.”