“Bad weather down there. All my leather is spoilt.”
“Is it so damp there?”
“Vapour bath, I tell you; a real vapour bath!”
Heideck had long since made up his mind that he had a Russian before him. But, in order to be quite on the safe side, he made a jocular remark in Russian. His new acquaintance looked up astonished.
“You speak Russian, sir?”
“A little.”
“But you are no Russian?”
“No; I am a German, who, during a temporary stay in Russia, have picked up a little knowledge of languages. We merchants go about a lot.”
The gentleman who, according to his statement, travelled in bronze and silk was evidently delighted to hear in a place where he had least expected it the familiar tones of his mother tongue, and Heideck did his utmost, with almost an excess of zeal, to keep him in good humour. He called his servant and bade him get some hot water.
“It’s quite chilly to-night,” he said, turning to his guest. “A hot brandy-and-water is not to be despised.”