To my astonishment, he replied:
"Take a sheet of paper, old fellow, and a pencil."
I obeyed with alacrity, delighted at the thought that he at last meant to dictate to me some of those pages which he knows how to clothe with such vigour and fancy, pages which I, unfortunately, am obliged to spoil with tedious explanations and boring developments.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Quite."
"Write down, 20, 1, 11, 5, 14, 15."
"What?"
"Write it down, I tell you."
He was now sitting up, with his eyes turned to the open window and his fingers rolling a Turkish cigarette. He continued: