“Don’t take those cigars, they are supplied by the waiter, and cost two groschen each, and they sell for three groschen a dozen in the Platz;” and, so saying, Loyd removed the plate from before him in a quiet business-like way, that promised well for the spirit is which his trust would be exercised.
Calvert laughed as he laid down the cigar, but his obedience ratified the pact between them.
“When do we go from this?” asked he, in a quiet and half-submissive tone.
“Oh, come, this is too much!” said Loyd. “I undertook to be purser, but not pilot.”
“Well, but I insist upon your assuming all the cares of legislation. It is not alone that I want not to think of the cash; but I want to have no anxieties about the road we go, where we halt, and when we move on. I want, for once in my life, to indulge the glorious enjoyment of perfect indolence—such another chance will scarcely offer itself.”
“Be it so. Whenever you like to rebel, I shall be just as ready to abdicate. I’ll go to my room now and study the map, and by the time you have finished your evening’s stroll on the bridge, I shall have made the plan of our future wanderings.”
“Agreed!” said Calvert. “I’m off to search for some of those cheap cigars you spoke of.”
“Stay; you forget that you have not got any money. Here are six silver groschen; take two dozen, and see that they don’t give you any of those vile Swiss ones in the number.”
He took the coin with becoming gravity, and set out on his errand.