out?
Is this person ill? Condolences. Is this person a father?
Congratulations. Monsieur, the king's uncle, is ailing; I romp to
Blois. A cabal is being formed in Brussels; I gallop away. His
Eminence hears of a new rouge; off I go. And here I have been to Rome
and back with a message which made the pope laugh; is it true that he
is about to appoint a successor? Mazarin, tiring of being a
left-handed king, aspires to the mantle of Saint Peter. Mazarin always
selects me for petty service. Why? Oh, Monsieur le Chevalier, having
an income, need not be paid moneys; because Monsieur le Chevalier was
born in the saddle, his father is an eagle, his grandsire was a
centaur. And don't forget the grey cloak, lad, the apple of my eye,
the admiration of the ladies, and the confusion of mine enemies; my own
particular grey cloak." By this time the Chevalier was getting into
his clothes; fine cambrics, silk hose, velvet pantaloons, grey doublet,
and shoes with buckles and red heels.

"But the grey cloak, Monsieur Paul . . ." began the lackey.

"What! you have dared to soil it?"

"No, Monsieur; but you have forgotten that you loaned it to Monsieur de
Saumaise, prior to your departure to Italy. He has not returned it."

"That's not like Victor. And I had dreamed of wearing that cloak.
Mademoiselle complimented me on it, and that fop De Montausier asked me
how many pistoles I paid for it."

"The purple cloak is new, Monsieur. It is fully as handsome as the
grey one. All it lacks is the square collar you invented."

"Ah well, since there is no grey cloak. Now the gossip. First of all,
my debts and debtors."

"Monsieur de Saumaise," said Breton, "has remitted the ten louis he
lost to you at tennis."

"There's a friend; ruined himself to do it. Poetry and improvidence;
how they cling together!"

"Brisemont, the jeweler, says that the garters you ordered will come to
one hundred and ten pistoles. But he wants to know what the central
gem shall be, rubies or sapphires surrounding."

"Topaz for the central gem, rubies and diamonds for the rest. The
clasps must match topaz eyes. And they must be done by Monday."

"Monsieur's eyes are grey," the lackey observed slyly.

"Rascal, you are asking a question!"

"No, Monsieur, I was simply stating a fact. Plutarch says . . ."

"Plutarch? What next?" in astonishment.

"I have just bought a copy of Amyot's translation with the money you
gave me. Plutarch is f