"If it pleases you. I am sure I shall be charmed to live here."
"Let the time go quickly—let it fly! Ah, Mr. Foster, you will like Bruges. It is the most dignified of cities. It has the picturesqueness of Nuremburg, the waterways of Amsterdam, the squares of Turin, the monuments of Perugia, the cafés of Florence, and the smells of Cologne. I have an old house there of the seventeenth century; it is on the Quai des Augustins."
"A family affair?" I questioned.
"No; I bought it only a few years ago from a friend. I fear I cannot boast of much family. My mother made lace, my father was a schoolmaster. They are both dead, and I have no relatives."
Somewhere in the building a clock struck three, and at that instant there was a tap at the door, and Alresca's valet discreetly entered.
"Monsieur rang?"
"No, Alexis. Leave us."
Comprehending that it was at last Alresca's hour for retiring, I rose to leave, and called the man back.
"Good night, dear friend," said Alresca, pressing my hand. "I shall expect you to-morrow, and in the meantime a room shall be prepared for you. Au revoir."
Alexis conducted me to the door. As he opened it he made a civil remark about the beauty of the night. I glanced at his face.