“You see,” cried he, at last, with a jovial air,—“you see I come, like a good comrade, and make myself at home at once.”
“I certainly see so much,” said I, dryly; “but whom have I the honor to receive?”
“You have the honor to receive Gustave Maurice de Marsac, young man, a gentleman of Dauphiné, who now masquerades in the character of first traveller for the respectable house of Hodnig and Oppovich.”
“I am proud to make your acquaintance, M. de Marsac,” said I, offering my band.
“What age are you?” cried he, staring fixedly at me. “You can't be twenty?”
“No, I am not twenty.”
“And they purpose to send you down to replace me!” cried he; and he threw himself back in his chair, and shook with laughter.
“I see all the presumption; but I can only say it was none of my doing.”
“No, no; don't say presumption,” said he, in a half-coaxing tone. “But I may say it, without vanity, it is not every man's gift to be able to succeed Gustave de Marsac. May I ask for a cigar? Thanks. A real Cuban, I verily believe. I finished my tobacco two posts from this, and have been smoking all the samples—pepper and hemp-seed amongst them—since then.”
“May I offer you something to eat?”