“Well, that beats all!” exclaimed Paganel, tearing off his spectacles.
“Yes,” continued the child. “Spain—capital, Gibraltar.”
“Admirable! perfect! sublime! And France, for I am French, and I should like to know to whom I belong.”
“France,” said Toline, quietly, “is an English province; chief city, Calais.”
“Calais!” cried Paganel. “So you think Calais still belongs to the English?”
“Certainly.”
“And that it is the capital of France?”
“Yes, sir; and it is there that the Governor, Lord Napo-leon, lives.”
This was too much for Paganel’s risible faculties. He burst out laughing. Toline did not know what to make of him. He had done his best to answer every question put to him. But the singularity of the answers were not his blame; indeed, he never imagined anything singular about them. However, he took it all quietly, and waited for the professor to recover himself. These peals of laughter were quite incomprehensible to him.
“You see,” said Major McNabbs, laughing, “I was right. The pupil could enlighten you after all.”