Carabine understood him to say _magots_ (baboons).
"Well, well, say no more!" she replied, smiling. "Do not make yourself
a laughing-stock for all the wittiest men in Paris; come to my house,
we will talk it over."
Montes was crushed. "Proofs," he stammered, "consider--"
"Only too many," replied Carabine; "and if the mere suspicion hits you
so hard, I fear for your reason."
"Is this creature obstinate, I ask you? He is worse than the late
lamented King of Holland!--I say, Lousteau, Bixiou, Massol, all the
crew of you, are you not invited to breakfast with Madame Marneffe the
day after to-morrow?" said Leon de Lora.
"_Ya_," said du Tillet; "I have the honor of assuring you, Baron, that
if you had by any chance thought of marrying Madame Marneffe, you are
thrown out like a bill in Parliament, beaten by a blackball called
Crevel. My friend, my old comrade Crevel, has eighty thousand francs a
year; and you, I suppose, did not show such a good hand, for if you
had, you, I imagine, would have been preferred."
Montes listened with a half-absent, half-smiling expression, which
struck them all with terror.
At this moment the head-waiter came to whisper to Carabine that a
lady, a relation of hers, was in the drawing-room and wished to speak
to her.
Carabine rose and went out to find Madame Nourrisson, decently veiled
with black lace.
"Well, child, am I to go to your house? Has he taken the hook?"
"Yes, mother; and the pistol is so fully loaded, that my only fear is
that it will burst," said Carabine.
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