It was not without a great effort that the party controlled themselves sufficiently to hear the old lady’s explanation. The very truthfulness of her voice and accent added indescribably to the absurdity; for while she designated her singular companion always as M. le Singe, she spoke of him as if he had been a naturalized Frenchman, born to enjoy all the inestimable privileges of “La Belle France.” Her story was this—but it is better, as far as may be, to give it in her own words:—
“My husband, gentlemen, is greffier of the Correctional Court of Paris; and although obliged, during the session, to be every day at the Tribunal, we reside at Versailles, for cheapness, using the railroad to bring us to and from Paris. Now, it chanced that I set out from Paris, where I had spent the night at a friend’s house, by the early train, which, you know, starts at five o’clock. Very few people travel by that train; indeed, I believe the only use of it is to go down to Versailles to bring up people from thence. It was a fine cheery morning—cold, but bright—in the month of March, as I took my place alone in one of the carriages of the train. After the usual delay (they are never prompt with this train), the word ‘En route’ was given, and we started; but before the pace was accelerated to a rapid rate, the door was wrenched open by the ‘conducteur’—a large full-grown baboon, with his tail over his arm, stepped in—the door closed, and away we went. Ah! gentlemen, I never shall forget that moment. The beast sat opposite me, just like Monsieur there, with his old parchment face, his round brown eyes, and his long-clawed paws, which he clasped exactly like a human being. Mon Dieu! what agony was mine! I had seen these creatures in the Jardin des Plantes, and knew them to be so vicious; but I thought the best thing to do was to cultivate the monster’s good graces, and so I put my hand in my reticule and drew forth a morsel of cake, which I presented to him.
“‘Merci, Madame,’ said he, with a polite bow, ‘I am not hungry.’
“Ah! when I heard him say this, I thought I should have died. The beast spoke it as plain as I am speaking to you; and he bowed his yellow face, and made a gesture of his hand, if I may call it a hand, just this way. Whether he remarked my astonishment, or perceived that I looked ill, I can’t say; but he observed in a very gentle tone,—
“‘Madame is fatigued.’
“‘Ah! Monsieur,’ said I, ‘I never knew that you spoke French.’
“‘Oui, parbleu!’ said he, ‘I was born in the Pyrenees, and am only half a Spaniard.’
“‘Monsieur’s father, then,’ said I, ‘was he a Frenchman?’
“‘Pauvre bête,’ said he; ‘he was from the Basque Provinces. He was a wild fellow.’
“‘I have no doubt of it,’ said I; ‘but it seems they caught him at last.’