"Tell us something of your travels," said Caspar, the host, who felt it incumbent on him to promote the conversation. "Have you been to Paris?"
"Of course," answered Florian, in a tone of voice in which a shrewd observer would have detected the ring of false metal; "but I didn't like it there. Nancy's the finest place yet. Go into a tavern there, and the walls are all looking-glasses, the tables are marble, and you eat and drink out of nothing but silver. You ought to go there once: you'd open your eyes and ears."
These signs of absorbing attention now showed themselves in Florian's own features; for the geometer, with his two colleagues, entered the room. They passed through to the little back parlor, where a table was set for them.
Florian seized his glass, made it clink against those of his friends, and said, "A votre santé."
Caspar had lost his interest in Florian's narration, and hastened to meet the new-comers and light them to their supportable, which was set in the back room. Florian, twirling his mustache, asked Constantine, very softly, "Which is it?"
"The lobsided one, with long hair, that came in first."
For a time all were silent, and nothing was heard but the clatter of knives and forks behind the screen.
But suddenly Constantine began to sing:--
"Oh, man of geometry,
Pull up your pegs: