II
I think that the time has now come to tell my readers a little about Mademoiselle Desgarcins, Potich, and the Last of the Laidmanoirs. Mademoiselle Desgarcins was a tiny monkey; I do not know the place of her birth, but I brought her from Havre, where I had gone—I don’t know why—perhaps to look at the sea. But I thought I must bring something home with me from Havre. I was walking there on the quay, when at the door of a bird-fancier’s shop I saw a green monkey and a blue and yellow macaw. The monkey put its paw through the bars of its cage and caught hold of my coat, while the blue parrot turned its head and looked at me in such an affectionate manner that I stopped, holding the monkey’s paw with one hand, and scratching the parrot’s head with the other. The little monkey gently drew my hand within reach of her mouth, the parrot half shut its eyes and made a little purring noise to express its pleasure.
‘MONSIEUR DUMAS, MAY I ACCOMMODATE YOU WITH MY MONKEY AND MY PARROT?’
‘Monsieur Dumas,’ said the shopman, coming out with the air of a man who was more decided to sell than I was to buy; ‘Monsieur Dumas, may I accommodate you with my monkey and my parrot?’ It would have been more to the purpose if he had said, ‘Monsieur Dumas, may I incommode you with my monkey and my parrot?’ However, after a little bargaining, I bought both animals, as well as a cage for the monkey and a perch for the parrot; and as soon as I arrived at home, I introduced them to Michel.
‘This,’ said Michel, ‘is the green monkey of Senegal—Cercopithecus sabæa.’
I looked at Michel in the greatest astonishment. ‘Do you know Latin, Michel?’
‘I don’t know Latin, but I know my “Dictionary of Natural History.”’