"Monsieur le comte, yellow is not a color to be scorned; in China, the marks of highest distinction consist of yellow waistcoats and peacocks' feathers." "Morbleu! monsieur, never mind the Chinese, but answer my question: why do I find you rigged out like this?" "Because I am to play Thésée this evening, monsieur le comte." "You, play Thésée!" "Yes, monsieur le comte; in _Phèdre_, which is to be given at the local theatre." "What! monsieur le précepteur, you propose to act?" "Why not, monsieur le comte? circumstances---- Besides, Roscius was entertained by Sylla, Garrick is buried at Westminster, and Molière----" "Do you consider yourself on a level with those men, monsieur? Do you suppose that I sent you with my son, with the idea of your being an actor? Was it with that end in view that you undertook this journey? Did you think, as well as Frédéric, that you could deceive me for long? In a fortnight, you spent the eight thousand francs I handed you----" "We didn't spend them, monsieur le comte----" "Silence, monsieur! I was willing to forgive that first escapade; I sent you more money, and I learned that, instead of continuing your journey, you had remained at Grenoble, and that my son was making the tour of Europe in Dauphiné." "It's a superb country, monsieur le comte." "I left Paris; I was determined to find out for myself what detained you in this neighborhood. I went to Grenoble, and failed to find you; I sought you in vain in that vicinity. And at last I find you here, in this absurd costume! I did not expect this, I admit.--But my son--where is he? is he acting, also?" "No, monsieur le comte." "Where is he, then?--speak!" "He is lost, monsieur le comte." "Lost! What do you mean? Answer me, monsieur!" "That is to say, monsieur le comte, he has gone astray." "Remember, monsieur, that I intrusted my son to you." "We will find him, monsieur le comte. Monsieur le Baron Potoski is going to send couriers to all the European courts." "Who is this Baron Potoski?" "He's a Polish nobleman, a very intelligent young man, Palatine of Rava and Sandomir, who has a magnificent castle in the Krapach Mountains, which he heats with gas." "Upon my word, Monsieur Ménard, I believe they have made you an absolute idiot!" "No, monsieur le comte; I know what I am saying, and I am telling the simple truth." "Where did you find this baron?" "We found him on the road, near Paris; he overturned our carriage, by the way, and I was thrown into a ditch. But monsieur your son recognized Baron Potoski as one of his friends; so we joined him in King Stanislas's berlin, where I sat in the seat once occupied by the Princess of Hungary; and we have travelled with the baron ever since." The Comte de Montreville paced the floor, stamping angrily, and looking up at the ceiling in despair. Ménard cowered in a corner, with his turban in his hand, afraid to move. After making the circuit of the room three or four times, the count returned to him.