In the Days of My Youth: A Novel

by Amelia B. Edwards

"Well, that may be. People used to come sometimes, I remember--artists and writers, and so on."

"Naturally."

"But I don't remember to have ever seen you, M'sieur Müller."

"You did not observe me, mon cher--or it may have been before, or after your time."

"Yes, that's true," replied Guichet, ponderingly. "How long ago was it, M'sieur Müller?"

Müller glanced at me again. His game, hitherto so easy, was beginning to grow difficult.

"Eh, mon Dieu!" he said, indifferently, "how can I tell? I have knocked about too much, now here, now there, in the course of my life, to remember in what particular year this or that event may have happened. I am not good at dates, and never was."

"But you remember seeing me there?"

"Have I not said so?"

Guichet took a couple of turns about the room. He looked flushed and embarrassed.