“But the baptismal name, Christian, Christin, Christiern, Chrétien, Cristiano, who gave you that?”
“The man in the mask, without adding any other.”
“Did this man speak Italian?”
“Very imperfectly. His difficulty in explaining himself added not a little to the mystery about me.”
“But what sort of accent had he?”
“Professor Goffredi had occupied himself with the dead languages only. His wife, like himself a highly educated person, knew a good deal about living languages, but she found it impossible to decide to what nationality this man’s accent belonged.”
“And the little Jew, what did he think?”
“If he had any opinion about it, he never thought proper to tell it.”
“Were your parents quite sure he was not himself the man in the mask?”
“Quite certain. The man in the mask was of middle size, while the Jew was not five feet high. Nor had their voices or accents anything of similarity. I see, Monsieur Goefle, that, like my poor friends the Goffredis, you are asking yourself all sorts of questions about me; but what difference would it make, let me ask you, even if you could answer them?”