Eusebe had arrived at this point in his reflections, when two travellers entered the coupé he occupied. Although it was still early in September, the two new-comers wore fur caps and overshoes and thick woollen cloaks, while their faces were half concealed by immense woollen comforters.
“Upon my word,” said one of them, “the winter is already setting in: this northwest wind is any thing but agreeable. What do you say to taking a puff? It will give us an appetite.”
On hearing these words, Eusebe was a prey to the most lively curiosity. The singular costume of his travelling-companions made him suspect he had in them two subjects for study, coming from some distant clime. To judge from their furs, they must have first seen the light at Moscow. On hearing them talk about “taking a puff,” he expected to see something new and extraordinary, and prepared himself to be all eyes and ears, in order to become acquainted with the customs of the strangers whom chance had thrown in his way.
To the great disappointment of the young man, the traveller took some cigars out of his pocket and lighted one, after having offered them to his companion and then to Eusebe, who had refused.
“You do not smoke, young man?”
“No, sir.”
“Bah! How old are you, then?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one years old, and you do not smoke! Where the devil do you come from, my young friend?”
“I come from the Capelette, a domain near Saint-Brice, in Limousin; I am going to Paris to see the world; and I cannot be your friend, since I never met you until this morning.”