Rochefoucault. Perhaps then the whole story may be quite as fabulous as the part of it which I have been relating.
La Fontaine. In that case, I may be able to set you right again.
Rochefoucault. He found his peruke a model of perfection; tight, yet easy; not an inch more on one side than on the other. The black patch on the forehead....
La Fontaine. Black patch too! I would have given a fifteen-sous piece to have caught him with that black patch.
Rochefoucault. He found it lovely, marvellous, irresistible. Those on each cheek....
La Fontaine. Do you tell me he had one on each cheek?
Rochefoucault. Symmetrically. The cravat was of its proper descent, and with its appropriate charge of the best Strasburg snuff upon it. The waistcoat, for a moment, puzzled and perplexed him. He was not quite sure whether the right number of buttons were in their holes; nor how many above, nor how many below, it was the fashion of the week to leave without occupation. Such a piece of ignorance is enough to disgrace any courtier on earth. He was in the act of striking his forehead with desperation; but he thought of the patch, fell on his knees, and thanked Heaven for the intervention.
La Fontaine. Just like him! just like him! good soul!
Rochefoucault. The breeches ... ah! those require attention: all proper: everything in its place. Magnificent. The stockings rolled up, neither too loosely nor too negligently. A picture! The buckles in the shoes ... all but one ... soon set to rights ... well thought of! And now the sword ... ah, that cursed sword! it will bring at least one man to the ground if it has its own way much longer ... up with it! up with it higher.... Allons! we are out of danger.
La Fontaine. Delightful! I have him before my eyes. What simplicity! aye, what simplicity!