better than that."

"I may not know proverbs, but I know my way--"

"It must be far," said Georges, "for I saw that person in charge of
your household give you provisions enough for an ocean voyage: rolls,
chocolate--"

"A special kind of bread and chocolate, yes, monsieur," returned
Oscar; "my stomach is much too delicate to digest the victuals of a
tavern."

"'Victuals' is a word as delicate and refined as your stomach," said
Georges.

"Ah! I like that word 'victuals,'" cried the great painter.

"The word is all the fashion in the best society," said Mistigris. "I
use it myself at the cafe of the Black Hen."

"Your tutor is, doubtless, some celebrated professor, isn't he?
--Monsieur Andrieux of the Academie Francaise, or Monsieur
Royer-Collard?" asked Schinner.

"My tutor is or was the Abbe Loraux, now vicar of Saint-Sulpice,"
replied Oscar, recollecting the name of the confessor at his school.

"Well, you were right to take a private tutor," said Mistigris.
"'Tuto, tutor, celeritus, and jocund.' Of course, you will reward him
well, your abbe?"