"Perhaps you will not so warmly welcome me," he returned, "when you learn my errand."
"I already know your errand, Count Grammont, and it makes you doubly welcome," I answered, drawing a chair for myself and sitting down in front of him.
"Ah, that is of good," he returned, rubbing his hands. "You already know the purpose of my visit?"
"Yes, I do, my dear count, but any purpose would delight me which brings the pleasure of your company."
"Ah, it is said like a civilized man," he returned, complimenting me by speaking English, though I shall not attempt to reproduce his pronunciation. "How far better it is to say: 'Monsieur, permit to me,' before one runs a man through than to do it as though one were sticking a mere pig. Is it not so?"
"True as sunshine, my dear count," I returned. "There's a vast difference between the trade of butchering and the gentle art of murder."
De Grammont threw back his head, laughing softly. "Ah, good, good! Very good, dear baron! The sentiment is beau-ti-ful and could not be better expressed—in English. You should have been born across the channel."
"I wish I had been born any place, not excepting hell, rather than in
England," I answered.
"True, true, what a hole it is," returned the count, regretfully. "The
Englishman is one pig."
He saw by the expression of my face that while I might abuse my own countrymen, I did not relish hearing it from others, so with true French tact he held up his hand to keep me from speaking till he could correct himself.