“Oh, heavens,” cried Beauchamp, “the minister quotes Béranger, what shall we come to next?”

“ M. de Château-Renaud⁠— M. Maximilian Morrel,” said the servant, announcing two fresh guests.

“Now, then, to breakfast,” said Beauchamp; “for, if I remember, you told me you only expected two persons, Albert.”

“Morrel,” muttered Albert⁠—“Morrel⁠—who is he?”

But before he had finished, M. de Château-Renaud, a handsome young man of thirty, gentleman all over⁠—that is, with the figure of a Guiche and the wit of a Mortemart⁠—took Albert’s hand.