“Well, and where are they going to send you to?”
“To Gombong, it appears.”
“They might very easily have packed you off to a worse place,” said van Rheijn, “to Singkelen, for instance, or to Atjeh.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you are quite right there,” sighed Murowski, “but where on earth is Gombong? You must excuse my ignorance, gentlemen,” continued he, with a smile, “the study of Indian geography is, I fear, somewhat neglected in Poland.”
“Gombong,” exclaimed van Rheijn, “is in Bagelen.”
“Indeed,” replied the Pole, “I am much obliged to you for the information; but where may Bagelen be?”
“Bagelen,” said the embryo-controller, with a certain sense of superiority, pointing in the required direction, “Bagelen is only just over there.”
“Not over the sea then?” cried Murowski, evidently much relieved.
“No, no, my dear fellow, not a bit of it; a carriage will take you there very comfortably. But, why don’t you ask van Nerekool, he has but just returned from the very place. He knows all about it. Why! he lost his heart there!”
“Lost his heart? At Gombong?” asked Murowski, looking from one to the other with a puzzled air.