‘H’m. Six,’ says he, looking at the paper. ‘Very annoying! I can never get it right.’
‘Oh, but you make excellent progress!’ I said. I would not discourage him, you understand, but he was congenitally unable to learn French. Some fire, I think, is needful, and he had quenched his fire in soapsuds.
He put the exercise down, leaned his chin upon his hand, and looked at me with clear, severe eyes.
‘I think we must have a little talk,’ said he.
‘I am entirely at your disposition,’ I replied; but I quaked, for I knew what subject to expect.
‘You have been some time giving me these lessons,’ he went on, ‘and I am tempted to think rather well of you. I believe you are a gentleman.’
‘I have that honour, sir,’ said I.
‘You have seen me for the same period. I do not know how I strike you; but perhaps you will be prepared to believe that I also am a man of honour,’ said he.
‘I require no assurances; the thing is manifest,’ and I bowed.
‘Very well, then,’ said he. ‘What about this Goguelat?’