And Monin, who had not noticed the negro in the reception room, and who supposed that he was a trader from the coast of Guinea, who was invited to dinner, was about to leave his wife's chair to ask him how his health was, when Bichette, divining her husband's purpose, caught him by his coat, saying: "Where on earth are you going, Monsieur Monin? Stay where you are! Don't you see that that's Monsieur Destival's negro?" "What! is that a negro, Bichette?" "Do you mean to say that you can't see it for yourself?" "Yes, of course; but I'll tell you--I thought he was talking German. 'Soup served,' he said." "Well, monsieur, is that German, I'd like to know? Still, when a person makes so much talk about having a negro, he ought to teach him to walk. Do you suppose I'd have a groom that acted as if he had lead in his breeches? A sweet creature, their Domingo! He's some wretched savage who's been soaked in licorice juice to make a negro of him." "Dinner is served, and Monsieur and Madame de la Thomassinière have not come!" said Madame Destival, snappishly. "We are only waiting for them. They are terrible people--never on time! It's after six." "Six ten," said the tall man in spectacles. "I am always with the sun; hum! hum!" "Six seven," said Monin, consulting his watch. "You are slow, monsieur; hum! hum!" "My husband sets his watch every day by the cannon at the Palais-Royal," said Madame Monin, with a disdainful glance at the spectacled man; while the little man with short arms stood thrice on his right leg and twice on his left, in his struggles to draw his watch from his fob; and, having finally succeeded in producing a silver time-piece, to which a gold chain was attached, he gazed a long time at the dial and said: "Yes, it must be about that." "Faith," said Destival, "if La Thomassinière weren't going to bring his wife, we wouldn't wait any longer, for it's ridiculous to keep a whole large party waiting like this; but a pretty woman always has some additional touch to give her costume, and we must always forgive the Graces.--Domingo, see that the entrées are kept warm. Baptiste, have the chafing dishes red hot. Come, you knaves, move a little more quickly when I give an order!" Domingo did not move any more quickly, because the doeskin breeches made it impossible. Baptiste, always in ill humor, pushed the negro roughly, muttering: "Well, you darkie! A pretty sort of assistant to give me! He can't do anything but break dishes and steal liquor! I wish he'd drink so much that he'd smash the whole crockery closet! That would teach 'em to give a brand new red jacket to that miserable black fellow, when they've made me wear the same shabby coat for three years." The half hour struck and the guests' faces lengthened. Auguste talked with one of his neighbors, who said: