Gaillard’s heel struck against the handle of a little frying-pan that protruded from a bundle. “We will have our meals sent in, but it is useful sometimes to be able to cook at home—sausages and things. You must come and teach us how to make coffee.” Gaillard poked his nose into an adjoining room; it was a bedroom. He observed that the washing-jug was cracked. “Well,” said Toto, “what do you think of it all?” “I envy you.” CHAPTER V. ANGÉLIQUE. “I envy you,” said Gaillard as they returned to civilization; “I envy you because you are young, rich, and a Prince. I do not envy you for these things, but rather for the enjoyment they can give you. To be twenty-two, poor, and in love—what can be better than that? You are twenty-two, and in love, and you are so rich that you can allow yourself the luxury of being poor. What a change for you, and how you will taste it all! Poverty falls to the poor; they have it every day, but they do not enjoy it. It is like the old women who sell sugar-plums; they do not eat their own wares. But with you it will be different; you will bring an unsated palate. Your present, contrasted with your past, will be as a naked man standing against a background of old-gold brocade. Extraordinary being to have found out a new pleasure in this jaded age, and that pleasure lying unnoticed before the eyes of all men. Look at that beggar man—are not his clothes the color of withered leaves? I have seen greens in old coats that no painter has ever seized. You would never guess my deep acquaintance with the ways of the poor, but I have been thrown in their way. Toto, I have a girlfriend.” “Better say a dozen.” “I know girls pursue me, but I cast them off. Angélique is not of the common order.” “Who is Angélique, for goodness’ sake?” “She is the only woman I love.” “I have heard you say that a dozen times about a dozen women.” “I was only pretending; in this world one hides one’s pearls and wears one’s glass beads. Angélique is very poor; she is a _pompon_ maker.” “What’s a _pompon_?”