CHAPTER VII
THE BITER, THE BITTEN, AND THE UN-BITTEN
"Mais tout le monde," began the chasseur of the Hôtel des Michetons—"mais, monsieur, tout le grand monde——"
"Exactly," said I, complacently. "Le grand monde means the great world; and," I added, "the world is a planet of no unusual magnitude, inhabited by bipeds whose entire existence is passed in attempting to get something for nothing."
The chasseur of the Hôtel des Michetons bowed, doubtfully.
"You request me," I continued, "not to forget you when I go away. Why should I not forget you? Are you historical, are you antique, are you rococo, are you a Rosacrucian?"
The chasseur, amiably perplexed, twirled his gold-banded cap between his fingers.
"Have you," I asked, "ever done one solitary thing for me besides touching your expensive cap?"