"All the more reason. Will you smoke?"
"Yes, with pleasure, if you'll get me one of your foreign pipes."
"They're right here; I don't need to leave the studio; wait a moment, and I'll fill one for you."
Tobie, who had hoped that the painter would leave him, and had proposed to seize the opportunity to steal away unperceived, was obliged to remain; and he wandered about the studio with a very preoccupied air.
"There, smoke that, and tell me what you think of it," said the painter, offering the young man a narghile of enormous length. "That was Ali Pacha's pipe."
"The devil! suppose my smoking it should make me a savage beast like him! Never mind, I'll take the risk. But how am I to light it? it isn't at all easy, the bowl's so far away."
"You put a candle on the floor, and then hold the pipe to it."
"All right."
Tobie took one of the candles from the card table, and put it on the floor.
"I beg pardon, messieurs," he said; "but I want it to light Ali Pacha's pipe."