_Baroness_--But, Marquis, this is very unconventional.

_Marquis [kissing her hand_]--Flatterer! Now sit down, and let's talk
about serious things. _[Taking a newspaper from the table_.] The gout
hasn't kept me from reading the news. Do you know that poor Déodat's
death is a serious mishap?

_Baroness_--What a loss to our cause!

_Marquis_--I have wept for him.

_Baroness_--Such talent! Such spirit! Such sarcasm!

_Marquis_--He was the hussar of orthodoxy. He will live in history as
the angelic pamphleteer. And now that we have settled his noble ghost--

_Baroness_--You speak very lightly about it, Marquis.

_Marquis_--I tell you I've wept for him.--Now let's think of some one to
replace him.

_Baroness_--Say to succeed him. Heaven doesn't create two such men at
the same time.

_Marquis_--What if I tell you that I have found such another? Yes,
Baroness, I've unearthed a wicked, cynical, virulent pen, that spits and
splashes; a fellow who would lard his own father with epigrams for a
consideration, and who would eat him with salt for five francs more.