“John Lackland.”
“Well, what of it?”
“John Lackland is also in this book.”
The volume, which was in sheep binding and worn at the corners, was indeed a copy of King John.
M. Hémonin turned to Nodier and said: “I paid six sous for it.”
In the evening the Duke of Northumberland gave a ball. It was a magnificent, fairylike spectacle. This Arabian Nights ambassador brought one of these nights to Rheims. Every woman found a diamond in her bouquet.
I could not dance. Nodier had not danced since he was sixteen years of age, when a great aunt went into ecstasies over his terpsichorean efforts and congratulated him in the following terms: “Tu est charmant, tu danses comme rim chou!” We did not go to Lord Northumberland’s ball.
“What shall we do tonight?” said I to Nodier. He held up his odd volume and answered:
“Let us read this.”
We read.