“You will help me to find what I am in search of,” continued the comte: “you who are such an idle fellow, in other words, a man with a mind full of ingenious devices.” “I am getting my ingenuity ready, then, my dear comte.” “This is the state of the case, then: I wish to approach a particular house, where I have some business.” “You must get near the house, then,” said Manicamp. “Very good; but in this house dwells a husband who happens to be jealous.” “Is he more jealous than the dog Cerberus?” “Not more, but quite as much so.” “Has he three mouths, as that obdurate guardian of the infernal regions had? Do not shrug your shoulders, my dear comte: I put the question to you with an excellent reason, since poets pretend that, in order to soften Monsieur Cerberus, the visitor must take something enticing with him--a cake, for instance. Therefore, I, who view the matter in a prosaic light, that is to say in the light of reality, I say: one cake is very little for three mouths. If your jealous husband has three mouths, comte, get three cakes.” “Manicamp, I can get such advice as that from M. de Beautru.” “In order to get better advice,” said Manicamp, with a comical seriousness of expression, “you will be obliged to adopt a more precise formula than you have used towards me.” “If Raoul were here,” said De Guiche, “he would be sure to understand me.” “So I think, particularly if you said to him: ‘I should very much like to see Madame a little nearer, but I fear Monsieur, because he is jealous.’” “Manicamp!” cried the comte, angrily, and endeavoring to overwhelm his tormentor by a look, who did not, however, appear to be in the slightest degree disturbed by it. “What is the matter now, my dear comte?” inquired Manicamp. “What! is it thus you blaspheme the most sacred of names?” “What names?” “Monsieur! Madame! the highest names in the kingdom.” “You are very strangely mistaken, my dear comte. I never mentioned the highest names in the kingdom. I merely answered you in reference to the subject of a jealous husband, whose name you did not tell me, and who, as a matter of course, has a wife. I therefore replied to you, in order to see Madame, you must get a little more intimate with Monsieur.” “Double-dealer that you are,” said the comte, smiling; “was that what you said?” “Nothing else.” “Very good; what then?” “Now,” added Manicamp, “let the question be regarding the Duchess--or the Duke--; very well, I shall say: Let us get into the house in some way or other, for that is a tactic which cannot in any case be unfavorable to your love affair.” “Ah! Manicamp, if you could but find me a pretext, a good pretext.” “A pretext; I can find you a hundred, nay, a thousand. If Malicorne were here, he would have already hit upon a thousand excellent pretexts.” “Who is Malicorne?” replied De Guiche, half-shutting his eyes, like a person reflecting, “I seem to know the name.”