son," said La Fontaine, clapping his hand on the shoulder of his friend, whose insult he had quite forgotten, "and they will rhyme."
Hem!" cried Pellisson.
"Molière says so, and Molière is a judge of it; he declares he has himself made a hundred thousand verses."
"Come," said Molière, laughing, "he is off now."
"It is like rivage, which rhymes admirably with herbage, I would take my oath of it."
"But — " said Molière.
"I tell you all this," continued La Fontaine, "because you are preparing a divertissement for Vaux, are you not?"
"Yes, the 'Fâcheux.'"
"Ah, yes, the 'Facheux;' yes, I recollect. Well, I was thinking a prologue would admirably suit your divertissement."
"Doubtless it would suit capitally."
"Ah! you are of my opinion?"
"So much so that I have asked you to write this prologue."
"You asked me to write it?"
"Yes, you, and on your refusal begged you to ask Pellisson, who is engaged upon it at this moment."
"Ah! that is what Pellisson is doing, then?"
"I' faith, my dear Molière, you might indeed often be right."
"When?"
"When you call me absent. It is a wretched defect; I will cure myself of it, and do your prologue for you."
"But seeing that Pellisson is about it——— "
"Ah! true, double rascal that I am! Loret was indeed right in saying I was a poor creature."
"It was not Loret who said so, my friend."
"Well, then, whoever said so, ’tis the same to me. And so your divertissement is called the 'Fâcheux?' Well can you not make heureux rhyme with fâcheux?"
"If obliged, yes."
"And even with capricieux."
"Oh, no, no!"
"It would be hazardous, and yet why so?"
"There is too great a difference in the cadences."
"I was fancying," said La Fontaine, leaving Molière for Loret — "I was fancying———"
"What were you fancying?" said Loret, in the middle of a sentence. "Make haste."
