"Do not _desiderate_--what the devil does that word mean? I do not remember ever to have heard it." "It is a good, square, old word, monsieur, which means _to lack_. Moliere often uses it." "How, Moliere!" exclaimed the astonished Count. "Do you read Moliere, my good fellow? Indeed, I did notice, while you were speaking, that you often used old turns of expression." "I shall tell you why, monsieur: When I noticed that you spoke to me in the style that Don Juan uses to Monsieur Dimanche, or Dorante to Monsieur Jourdain--" "What are you driving at?" put in the Count of Plouernel, more and more taken aback, and beginning to suspect that the merchant was not quite so simple as he seemed. "What do you mean?" "Well," proceeded Lebrenn in his tone of bantering simplicity, "well, when I noticed that, then, in order to reciprocate the honor that you were doing me, monsieur, I, in turn, assumed the language of Monsieur Dimanche, or of Monsieur Jourdain--I beg your pardon for my great liberty--and meseems, according to what little judgment I have, monsieur, meseems you would not greatly object to taking my daughter for your mistress--" "What!" cried the Count, utterly disconcerted by this brusque apostrophe. "I do not know--I do not understand what you mean--" "Oh, monsieur! I am but a plain man--I can only speak as my little judgment dictates." "Your little judgment! It serves you very poorly. Upon my honor, you are crazy! Your idea lacks common sense." "Indeed? Oh, well, so much the better! I said to myself, follow closely, if you please, my plain way of reasoning--I said to myself: I am a good bourgeois of St. Denis Street; I sell linen; I have a handsome daughter; a young seigneur--because it does seem we are returning to the days of young seigneurs--has seen my daughter; he covets her; he gives me a large order; he adds offers of service, and, under the pretext--" "Monsieur Lebrenn--there are jokes I do not tolerate from people!" "I agree--but follow closely my plain way of reasoning, if you please, monsieur: The young seigneur, I said to myself, proposes to give a tournament in honor of my daughter's pretty eyes, and to come frequently to see us, all with the only end in view, by thus playing the good Prince, to succeed in seducing my child." "Monsieur," cried the Count, growing purple with vexation and rage, "by what right do you allow yourself to impute such intentions to me?" "That's well, monsieur; I call that speaking to the point. You would not, is it not true? scheme a plot that is not only so unworthy, but so supremely ridiculous?" "Enough, monsieur, enough!"