CHAPTER VIII.
“I am not married,” said the merchant, “and, therefore, have no son. If I had one, I would not let him travel. For myself, I will never go farther than Versailles, where I am going to retire. I shall be sure to find a hospitable tent there, for I have an income of ten thousand francs. Finally, I am not a generous man: I am a dealer in porcelain.”
“It is not a dull trade,” observed Eusebe, sententiously.
“I invited you to come in,” continued the merchant, “because I knew by your accent that you were a compatriot. I am from Rochechouart. My name is Lansade.”
Eusebe thereupon gave an account of his journey, and detailed the motives for the undertaking,—which, however, the merchant did not comprehend.
“What I can see clearly in all this is, that M. Martin, your father,—I know him well,—wishes you to see the world. It is quite natural. A young man ought to know something of life.”
“Such is, indeed, his wish.”
“But,” continued Lansade, “he should have given you letters of introduction to some friends, who would take pleasure in piloting you through Paris.”