It was a question of
doing battle with some secret enemy who seemed as dangerous as he was
cunning; and to carry off the victory, all the forces which Henri
could dispose of would be useful. He was about to play in that eternal
old comedy which will be always fresh, and the characters in which are
an old man, a young girl, and a lover: Don Hijos, Paquita, De Marsay.
If Laurent was the equal of Figaro, the duenna seemed incorruptible.
Thus, the living play was supplied by Chance with a stronger plot than
it had ever been by dramatic author! But then is not Chance too, a man
of genius?
"It must be a cautious game," said Henri, to himself.
"Well," said Paul de Manerville, as he entered the room. "How are we
getting on? I have come to breakfast with you."
"So be it," said Henri. "You won't be shocked if I make my toilette
before you?"
"How absurd!"
"We take so many things from the English just now that we might well
become as great prudes and hypocrites as themselves," said Henri.
Laurent had set before his master such a quantity of utensils, so many
different articles of such elegance, that Paul could not refrain from
saying:
"But you will take a couple of hours over that?"
"No!" said Henri, "two hours and a half."
"Well, then, since we are by ourselves, and can say what we like,
explain to me why a man as superior as yourself--for you are superior
--should affect to exaggerate a foppery which cannot be natural. Why
spend two hours and a half in adorning yourself, when it is sufficient
to spend a quarter of an hour in your bath, to do your hair in two
minutes, and to dress! There, tell me your system.
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