The commissionaire answered him that he was,—and Mr. P. thrust his arm through that of the commissionaire and said—
“My dear sir, if you are disengaged I should be very glad if you would accompany me in my walks through the town.”
“Mr. Potiphar!” said Polly, “come!”
“Coming, my dear,” answered he, as he approached with the commissionaire. It was in vain that Mrs. P. winked and frowned. Her husband would not take hints. So taking his other arm, and wishing the commissionaire good morning, she tried to draw him away. But he clung to his companion and said,
“Polly, this gentleman speaks English.”
“Don’t keep his arm,” whispered she; “he is only a servant.”
“Servant, indeed!” said he; “you should have heard him speak French, and you see how gentlemanly he is.”
It was some time before Polly was able to make her husband comprehend the case.
“Ah!” said he, at length; “Oh! I understand.”
All our first days were full of such little mistakes. Kurz Pacha come regularly to see us, and laughed more than I ever saw him laugh before. The young men were away a great deal, which was hardly kind. But they said they must call upon their old acquaintances; and Polly and I expected every day to be called upon by their lady friends.