In the height of this altercation I heard a titter of laughter. Feeling hot and discomposed already with an argument in which I showed to no advantage, I looked about to see from whom it might proceed. It surprised me to discover that I was providing a spectacle for one who appeared to make no secret of the fact that he was enjoying it.
“You are amused, sir?” I said, addressing this person sternly, for I felt myself upon the verge of a passion.
“Very,” said he, at his leisure and in a soft voice.
“May I ask, sir, in what particular I have the happiness to amuse you?”
“My dear friend,” said this person, more at his leisure than ever, “it would take me a long while to render it clear to you, and the heat is excessive; but if you will do me the honour to repair to my lodgings, I may be able to explain the whole matter over a bottle of wine. And may I pray you to bring the admirable Babieca, for next to the friendship of his master I am sure I shall value his before anything else in the world.”
Now, in the circumstances, such an address was extremely singular, but the courtesy with which it was accompanied was so fine, and the air and bearing of the person who employed it were so admirable, that I knew at once that I had been accosted by a man of birth. Taking off his hat, which was adorned with a long white plume, he bowed to the ground; and while I hoped that my demeanour was in nowise behind his own, I could not refrain from feeling how much honour his true Spanish politeness did him.
“You are of Castile, sir, I am sure?”
“Ah no,” said he, in a soft, lisping accent, “I can make no claim to be one of your adorable nation.”
“Then, sir, may I ask to whom I have the honour of paying my addresses?”
“Truly. I am Monsieur le Comte de Nullepart, Marquis de Outre le Mer, Sieur des Champs Elysées. And you, sir—and you?”