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Gaston Cheverny's house, a simple manor house, was in sight of the château of Capello, as Gaston had told us many times, while Castle Haret, which Regnard had so cleverly acquired, was some distance away. We spent four days in Königsberg before the remainder of our poor fellows caught up with us.
Count Saxe and I rallied him often, but he grew so savage about it that presently we desisted. Regnard was far more debonair and reasonable, but I have always distrusted that man who is entirely reasonable in his loves and his hates. At last the June days came to an end, and with it, the gorgeous pageantry of the camp of Radewitz. In a night the splendid scene vanished.
When he told me he regarded my fortune as less than nothing, I did whisper into Bold's ear, loud enough for Regnard to hear 'So say they all except' the exception I meant was Gaston. He is the only suitor I have yet had, who did not assure me that my fortune was nothing to him. Regnard overheard me and I saw he was angered.
It was a superb estate, and his own modest country house was within sight of it. Castle Haret, which Regnard Cheverny had so cleverly acquired, was some distance off in the same province. In Francezka's childhood, during her parents' lifetime, she had lived at the château, where Gaston and his brother had often played with her as a little girl.
"A vicomte's title is a recommendation in the eyes of people who still cling to the baubles of nobility, and all women are of this class. There is something, I know not what, delicate and knightly in this title, which suits a youngish bachelor. Duke above all titles is the one that sounds the best. Moliere and Regnard have done great harm to the title of marquis.
Now that Gaston Cheverny had been miraculously restored to his wife, people began to ask about Regnard. Count Saxe inquired of Gaston if anything was known of Regnard, but Gaston shook his head. He had not yet had time to have inquiries made about his brother, but would do so. Judging, however, from such information as he had found awaiting him, it seemed likely that Regnard was dead.
"Who is taking the part of Florentin?" inquired Durville of Romilly. "Regnard: he'll be no worse in it than Chevalier." Pradel plucked Trublet by the sleeve, and said: "Dr. Socrates, I beg you to tell me whether as a scientific man, as a physiologist, you see any serious objections to the immortality of the soul?" He asked the question as a busy and practical man in need of personal information.
So, I took it, he had a strong motive for staying in Brabant. I often wondered what Jacques Haret's feelings must be, when Regnard, as he often did, talked openly about the new plans for Castle Haret. But Jacques showed his usual cool and unruffled front. It is astonishing how many good and even great qualities a man may possess and still be a scoundrel of the first water.
That the content rather than the literary turn of dialogue is the thing that counts most in the theatre will be felt emphatically if we compare the mere writing of Molière with that of his successor and imitator, Regnard.
It was near two o'clock in the morning when they parted in the corridor upon which my chamber opened, and I heard Gaston's clear voice saying: "Brother, you have chosen another country than I; we can no longer say Un Foy, Un Loy, Un Roy, but we need not be any the less brothers." "True," replied Regnard.
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