"To be sure, since you do not understand."
"I do not understand because this native speaks so badly!" answered the geographer, who began to be impatient.
"That is to say, he speaks badly, because you do not understand," returned the major, calmly.
"MacNabb," said Glenarvan, "that is not a probable supposition. However abstracted our friend Paganel may be, we cannot suppose that his blunder was to learn one language for another."
"Now, my dear Edward, or rather you, my good Paganel, explain to me what the difficulty is."
"I will not explain," replied Paganel, "I insist. Here is the book in which I practice daily the difficulties of the Spanish language! Examine it, major, and you will see whether I impose upon you."
So saying, Paganel groped in his numerous pockets. After searching a few moments, he drew forth a volume in a very bad state, and presented it with an air of assurance. The major took the book, and looked at it.
"Well, what work is this?" he asked.
"The Lusiad," replied Paganel; "an admirable poem which——"
"The Lusiad!" cried Glenarvan.