The superintendent, M. Mairieux, attracted by the commotion, now ran into the room. He did not waste any time, but would have thrown me out bodily without listening to me. At last I succeeded in explaining my presence, and my desire both to buy the chateau and to devour the potatoes.
“The chateau, yes,” he replied, “the gratin, no.”
Nothing excited me like contradiction.
“I shall not take the one without the other,” I declared. “The chateau and the gratin at the market price.”
“My dinner is not for sale,” said M. Mairieux.
“Then invite me.”
“I don’t know who you are,” he returned.
This conversation was being carried on in a kitchen which I had entered by force. Despite my self-satisfaction, I had to admit that my manner of introducing myself was hardly a correct one. I opened my coat, therefore, which, incidentally, was suffocating me, and presented my card. At the same time I offered to write a cheque at once for the price of the property. At this the superintendent multiplied the number of his objections.
“It is impossible,” he said, “you have not seen the place.”
“One glance has been sufficient for me. It pleases me.”