person. They know that I am intimate with you—that you are, in fact, one of the oldest of my Parisian acquaintances—and they will not find you at my house; they will certainly ask me why I did not invite you. Be sure to provide yourself with some previous engagement which shall have a semblance of probability, and communicate the fact to me by a line in writing. You know that with bankers nothing but a written document will be valid.”
“I will do better than that,” said Albert; “my mother is wishing to go to the seaside—what day is fixed for your dinner?”
“Saturday.”
“This is Tuesday—well, tomorrow evening we leave, and the day after we shall be at Tréport. Really, count, you have a delightful way of setting people at their ease.”
“Indeed, you give me more credit than I deserve; I only wish to do what will be agreeable to you, that is all.”
“When shall you send your invitations?”
“This very day.”
“Well, I will immediately call on M. Danglars, and tell him that my mother and myself must leave Paris tomorrow. I have not seen you, consequently I know nothing of your dinner.”
“How foolish you are! Have you forgotten that M. Debray has just seen you at my house?”
“Ah, true.”
“Fix it this way. I have seen you, and invited you without any ceremony, when you instantly answered that it would be impossible for you to accept, as you were going to Tréport.”