GarGar, le comte des Deux Chats gave the door to the prime minister’s office an apprehensive knock. Monsieur le Premier ministre had couched a command in a polite invitation summoning Monsieur le comte into his presence. S’il vous plait, sa seigneurie, M. de l’Âne vous invite à le fréquenter à son bureau dans le palais à 9 heures du matin, the note had read.
“Please come in!” Said a cheerful voice from the other side of the door. Recognizing the voice of the prime minister, GarGar pulled a little at the cuffs of his jacket, shifted his tricornered hat a bit and then entered the poorly lit room with a slight bow. Holding his cane in his left hand, arm akimbo, GarGar extended his right to shake hands. The prime minister chose to ignore the gesture, cleared his throat and then invited M. le comte to sit down in a chair opposite his desk.
I wonder what the old widowmaker has planned for me now. Mused GarGar. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.