Richon held out his glass. "And so you have supped," continued Canolles,--"supped with your little rascal of a viscount? Oh! I beg your pardon, Richon, I am wrong; a charming boy, I mean, to whom I owe my present pleasure of looking at life on its beautiful side, instead of giving up the ghost through three or four holes, which the gallant Duc d'Épernon had it in contemplation to make in my skin. I am very grateful therefore to the charming viscount, the fascinating Ganymede. Ah! Richon, you have every appearance of being just what you are said to be,--a devoted servant of Monsieur de Condé." "A truce to your pleasantry, baron," cried Richon, laughing uproariously; "don't say such things as that, or you will kill me with laughter." "Kill you with laughter! Go to, my dear fellow! not you. 'Igne tantum perituri Quia estes-- Landeriri.' You know the lament, do you not? It's a Christmas carol, written by your patron upon the German river _Rhenus_, one morning when he was consoling one of his followers, who dreaded death by drowning. Oh! you devil of a Richon! No matter; I am shocked at your little gentleman,--to take so deep an interest in the first well-favored cavalier who passes!" As he finished, Canolles fairly rolled off his chair, shrieking with laughter, and pulling at his moustache in a paroxysm of merriment, in which Richon could not help joining. "Seriously, my dear Richon," Canolles resumed, "you are conspiring, aren't you?" Richon continued to laugh, but somewhat less frankly. "Do you know that I had a great mind to have you and your little gentleman arrested? _Corbleu!_ that would have been amusing, and very easy too. I had the staff-bearers of my good gossip d'Épernon at hand. Ah! Richon to the guard-house and the little gentleman too! _landeriri!_" At that moment they heard two horses galloping away from the inn. "Oho!" said Canolles; "what might that be, Richon? Do you know?" "I have a shrewd suspicion." "Tell me, then." "It's the little gentleman going away." "Without bidding me adieu!" cried Canolles. "He is a consummate boor." "Oh no, my dear baron; he's a man in a hurry, that's all." Canolles frowned. "What extraordinary manners!" said he. "Where was the fellow brought up? Richon, my friend, I tell you frankly that he does you no credit. That's not the way gentlemen should treat one another. _Corbleu!_ if I had him here, I believe I would box his ears. The devil fly away with his father, who, from stinginess, I doubt not, gave him no governor." "Don't lose your temper, baron," said Richon, with a laugh; "the viscount isn't so ill-bred as you think; for, as he went away, he bade me express to you his deep regret, and to say a thousand complimentary things to you."