"Doesn't that smell rather like a marchioness, eh?" said Dubourg, inhaling the perfume ecstatically. "Well, Ménard, what do you say to this letter?" "I see nothing surprising in it, monsieur le baron; you must be accustomed to receive similar ones wherever you go." "True, you are right, Ménard; I don't mean to imply that I am surprised; I say that the note is well turned, eh?" "Very well turned, monsieur le baron." "It was evidently written by a woman who knows her man, wasn't it?" "Certainly, monsieur le baron, she must know him." "But I mean that it doesn't resemble such notes as--as little Delphine had the presumption to write me." "Who was this Delphine, monsieur le baron?" "Oh! she was a little countess, on Boulevard du Temple, whose receptions used to be attended by a large number of noblemen of my stamp." "Monsieur le baron will accept Madame la Marquise de Versac's invitation, of course?" "Accept it? most assuredly. Let us dine at once, Monsieur Ménard, so that I need think of nothing but dressing. Where's Frédéric?" "Admiring some new view, no doubt; he told me that he should not return till evening; I think he intends to leave Lyon to-morrow." "To-morrow! Oh! we'll see about that; we have all the time there is, and we're very comfortable here, aren't we, Monsieur Ménard?" "Very, monsieur le baron; but, you know, we are traveling for----" "I know that we shouldn't leave a city till we know it thoroughly, and Frédéric can't know this city yet, as he's always in the suburbs. You must persuade him of that, Monsieur Ménard." "I will do my utmost, monsieur le baron." Dubourg ate little dinner; he was too much engrossed by thoughts of his evening to have any appetite; a child does not eat, when his father has promised to take him to the play. We are big children; the anticipation of a new pleasure always produces the same effect on us. Dubourg deliberated concerning his toilet. If he had had time, he would have ordered a dress-coat; but he must needs be content with one of Frédéric's, who was much more slender than he, so that he could never button it. Should he go in top-boots? That would be rather too informal, his hostess being a marchioness. But he had no trousers; Frédéric's were too small for him, and it was not the same with them as with a coat, which one is always at liberty to leave unbuttoned. Ménard would lend him a pair, but they would be too large; so he decided to go in boots; he was a foreigner, a Pole, that fact would be his excuse; moreover, his silver tassels pleased him immensely.