And she bawled out:
"Monsieur Duchoux—a call."
The baron entered, and in a spacious apartment, rendered dark by the windows being half-closed, he indistinctly traced out persons and things, which appeared to him very slovenly looking.
Standing in front of a table laden with articles of every sort, a little bald man was tracing lines on a large sheet of paper.
He interrupted his work, and advanced two steps. His waistcoat left open, his unbuttoned breeches, and his turned-up shirt-sleeves, indicated that he felt hot, and his muddy shoes showed that it had rained hard some days before.
He asked with a very pronounced southern accent:
"Whom have I the honor of—?"
"Monsieur Merlin—I came to consult you about a purchase of building-ground."
"Ha! ha! very well!"
And Duchoux, turning towards his wife, who was knitting in the shade: