“What you have just said induces me to hope that you intend breakfasting with me.”
“No, thank you, I am thinking of other things besides breakfast just now; perhaps we may take that meal at a later hour and in worse company.”
“What on earth are you talking of?”
“I am to fight today.”
“For what?”
“For the sake of fighting!”
“Yes, I understand that, but what is the quarrel? People fight for all sorts of reasons, you know.”
“I fight in the cause of honor.”
“Ah, that is something serious.”
“So serious, that I come to beg you to render me a service.”
“What is it?”
“To be my second.”
“That is a serious matter, and we will not discuss it here; let us speak of nothing till we get home. Ali, bring me some water.”
The count turned up his sleeves, and passed into the little vestibule where the gentlemen were accustomed to wash their hands after shooting.
“Come in, my lord,” said Philip in a low tone, “and I will show you something droll.” Morcerf entered, and in place of the usual target, he saw some playing-cards fixed against the wall. At a distance Albert thought it was a complete suit, for he counted from the ace to the ten.
“Ah, ha,” said Albert, “I see you were preparing for a game of cards.”
“No,” said the count, “I was making a suit.”
“How?” said Albert.
“Those are really aces and twos which you see, but my shots have turned them into threes, fives, sevens, eights, nines, and tens.”