Pelisson, again absorbed in his work, took good care not to answer.
"But if Pelisson said you were so," cried Moliere, "Pelisson has seriously offended you."
"Do you think so?"
"Ah! I advise you, as you are a gentleman, not to leave an insult like that unpunished."
"_What!_" exclaimed La Fontaine.
"Did you ever fight?"
"Once only, with a lieutenant in the light horse."
"What wrong had he done you?"
"It seems he ran away with my wife."
"Ah, ah!" said Moliere, becoming slightly pale; but as, at La Fontaine"s declaration, the others had turned round, Moliere kept upon his lips the rallying smile which had so nearly died away, and continuing to make La Fontaine speak--
"And what was the result of the duel?"
"The result was, that on the ground my opponent disarmed me, and then made an apology, promising never again to set foot in my house."
"And you considered yourself satisfied?" said Moliere.
"Not at all! on the contrary, I picked up my sword. "I beg your pardon, monsieur," I said, "I have not fought you because you were my wife"s friend, but because I was told I ought to fight. So, as I have never known any peace save since you made her acquaintance, do me the pleasure to continue your visits as heretofore, or _morbleu!_ let us set to again." And so," continued La Fontaine, "he was compelled to resume his friendship with madame, and I continue to be the happiest of husbands."
All burst out laughing. Moliere alone pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes.
Why? Perhaps to wipe away a tear, perhaps to smother a sigh. Alas! we know that Moliere was a moralist, but he was not a philosopher. ""Tis all one," he said, returning to the topic of the conversation, "Pelisson has insulted you."
"Ah, truly! I had already forgotten it."
"And I am going to challenge him on your behalf."
"Well, you can do so, if you think it indispensable."
"I do think it indispensable, and I am going to--"
"Stay," exclaimed La Fontaine, "I want your advice."
"Upon what? this insult?"
"No; tell me really now whether _lumiere_ does not rhyme with _orniere_."
"I should make them rhyme."
"Ah! I knew you would."
"And I have made a hundred thousand such rhymes in my time."
"A hundred thousand!" cried La Fontaine. "Four times as many as "La Pucelle," which M. Chaplain is meditating. Is it also on this subject, too, that you have composed a hundred thousand verses?"
"Listen to me, you eternally absent-minded creature," said Moliere.
"It is certain," continued La Fontaine, "that _legume_, for instance, rhymes with _posthume_."
"In the plural, above all."
"Yes, above all in the plural, seeing that then it rhymes not with three letters, but with four; as _orniere_ does with _lumiere_."
"But give me _ornieres_ and _lumieres_ in the plural, my dear Pelisson,"
said La Fontaine, clapping his hand on the shoulder of his friend, whose insult he had quite forgotten, "and they will rhyme."
"Hem!" coughed Pelisson.
"Moliere says so, and Moliere is a judge of such things; he declares he has himself made a hundred thousand verses."
"Come," said Moliere, laughing, "he is off now."
"It is like _rivage_, which rhymes admirably with _herbage_. I would take my oath of it."
"But--" said Moliere.
"I tell you all this," continued La Fontaine, "because you are preparing a _divertiss.e.m.e.nt_ for Vaux, are you not?"
"Yes, the "Facheux.""
"Ah, yes, the "Facheux;" yes, I recollect. Well, I was thinking a prologue would admirably suit your _divertiss.e.m.e.nt_."
"Doubtless it would suit capitally."
"Ah! you are of my opinion?"
"So much so, that I have asked you to write this very prologue."
"You asked _me_ to write it?"
"Yes, you, and on your refusal begged you to ask Pelisson, who is engaged upon it at this moment."
"Ah! that is what Pelisson is doing, then? I"faith, my dear Moliere, you are indeed often right."
"When?"
"When you call me absent-minded. It is a monstrous defect; I will cure myself of it, and do your prologue for you."
"But inasmuch as Pelisson is about it!--"
"Ah, true, miserable rascal that I am! Loret was indeed right in saying I was a poor creature."