“A German, living quite close to the Rue Dauphiné, on the Quai Conti,” said the doctor. “Had he not given Ursule a lesson every day during our visit to Paris, he would have come this morning.”
“He is not only a great musician,” said Ursule, “but an adorably simple man.”
“The lessons must be very expensive!” cried Désiré.
The players exchanged an ironical smile. When the game was finished, the doctor, who had been gloomy up till then, assumed, in looking at Savinien, the look of a man who is grieved at having to fulfil an obligation.
“Monsieur,” he said to him, “I am very grateful for the feeling that has led you to pay me so prompt a visit; but your mother attributes very ignoble after-thoughts to me, and I should be giving her the right to a genuine belief in them did I not beg you never to come again to see me, in spite of the honor your visits do me and of the pleasure I should have in cultivating your society. My honor and my peace require that all neighborly relations should cease between us. Tell your mother that, if I do not beg her to do us the honor, my ward and I, of accepting an invitation to dinner on Sunday next, it is because of the certainty I have that she would be indisposed on that day.”
The old man held out his hand to the young viscount, who pressed it affectionately and said:
“You are right, monsieur!”
