"What a number of books you have!" cried Anton, in delight.
"Memorials of a world in which I no longer live."
"And those wings—are they a part of those memorials?"
"Yes, they are the wings of a condor. I am proud of them, as you see," answered Fink, offering Anton a packet of cigars, and propelling a great arm-chair toward him with his foot. "And now let us have a chat. Are you knowing in horses?"
"No," said Anton.
"Are you a sportsman?"
"Not that either."
"Are you musical?"
"Very slightly so," said Anton.
"Why, what specialities have you, then, in Heaven's name?"