'A cat may look at a king, as your English proverb says,' added Schinkel, jocosely. He smiled so hard at his own pleasantry that his eyes closed up and vanished—an effect which Hyacinth, who had observed it before, thought particularly unbecoming to him, appearing as it did to administer the last perfection to his ugliness. He would have consulted his interests by cultivating immobility of feature.
'Oh, a king, a king!' murmured Poupin, shaking his head up and down. 'That's what it's not good to be, au point où nous en sommes.'
'I just came in to wish you good-night,' said Hyacinth. 'I'm afraid it's rather late for a call, though Schinkel is here.'
'It's always too late, my very dear, when you come,' the Frenchman rejoined. 'You know if you have a place at our fireside.'
'I esteem it too much to disturb it,' said Hyacinth, smiling and looking round at the three.
'We can easily sit down again; we are a comfortable party. Put yourself beside me.' And the Frenchman drew a chair close to the one, at the table, that he had just quitted.
'He has had a long walk, he is tired—he will certainly accept a little glass,' Madame Poupin announced with decision, moving toward the tray containing the small gilded liqueur service.
'We will each accept one, ma bonne; it is a very good occasion for a drop of fine,' her husband interposed, while Hyacinth seated himself in the chair his host had designated. Schinkel resumed his place, which was opposite; he looked across at Hyacinth without speaking, but his long face continued to
