“I am happy to have secured you,” said L., with a little laugh to himself at the epigram of his phrase. “Do you like caviar?”
“Delight in it!”
“I have just got some fresh from St Petersburg, and our cook here is rather successful in his caviar soup. We have a red trout from the Tegen See, a saddle of Tyrol mutton, and a pheasant—voilà votre diner! but I can promise you a more liberal carte in drinkables; just say what you like in the way of wine!”
F.‘s face beamed over with ecstasy. It was one of the grand moments of his life; and if he could, hungry as he was, he would have prolonged it! To be there the guest of her Majesty’s mission; to know, to feel, that the arms of England were over the door! that he was to be waited on by flunkies in the livery of the Legation, fed by the cook who had ministered to official palates, his glass filled with wine from the cellar of him who represented royalty! These were very glorious imaginings; and little wonder that F., whose whole life was a Poem in its way, should feel that they almost overcame him. In fact, like the woman in the nursery song, he was ready to exclaim, “This is none of me!” but still there were abundant evidences around him that all was actual, positive, and real.
“By the way,” said L., in a light, careless way, “did you ever in your wanderings chance upon a namesake of yours, only that he interpolates another Christian name, and calls himself R. Napoleon F.?”
The stranger started: the fresh, ruddy glow of his cheek gave way to a sickly yellow, and, rising from his chair, he said, “Do you mean to ‘split’ on me, sir?”
“I’m afraid, F.,” said the other, jauntily, “the thing looks ugly. You are R. N. F.!”
“And are you, sir, such a scoundrel—such an assassin—as to ask a man to your table in order to betray him?”
“These are strong epithets, F., and I’ll not discuss them; but if you ask, Are you going to dine here today? I’d say, No. And if you should ask, Where are, you likely to pass the evening? I’d hint, In the city jail.”
At this F. lost all command over himself, and broke out into a torrent of the wildest abuse. He was strong of epithets, and did not spare them. He stormed, he swore, he threatened, he vociferated; but L., imperturbable throughout all, only interposed with an occasional mild remonstrance—a subdued hint—that his language was less than polite or parliamentary. At length the door opened, two gendarmes appeared, and N. F. was consigned to their hands and removed.