"You see I did know the count," said Oscar.

"Possibly. But you'll never be an ambassador," replied Georges. "When
people want to talk in public conveyances, they ought to be careful,
like me, to talk without saying anything."

"That's what speech is for," remarked Mistigris, by way of conclusion.

The count returned to his seat and the coucou rolled on amid the
deepest silence.

"Well, my friends," said the count, when they reached the Carreau
woods, "here we all are, as silent as if we were going to the
scaffold."

"'Silence gives content,'" muttered Mistigris.

"The weather is fine," said Georges.

"What place is that?" said Oscar, pointing to the chateau de
Franconville, which produces a fine effect at that particular spot,
backed, as it is, by the noble forest of Saint-Martin.

"How is it," cried the count, "that you, who say you go so often to
Presles, do not know Franconville?"

"Monsieur knows men, not castles," said Mistigris.

"Budding diplomatists have so much else to take their minds," remarked
Georges.