“Madmen, enthusiasts,” he added, “they appeared to despise all the world; but really, my young friend, you are too sad.”
“Young!” answered I, bitterly; “I am older than you. Each quarter of an hour as it passes adds a year to my age.”
He turned round and looked at me for a few seconds with unfeigned surprise.
“You are joking—older than I am; why I might be your grandfather.”
“I was not joking,” answered I, gravely.
He opened his snuff-box.
“There, my dear sir, do not be angry, and do not bear me a grudge.”
“I shall not bear it long,” was my reply.
At this moment the snuff-box, which he had placed against the barred division, was shaken from his hand by a violent jolt of the vehicle, and fell at his feet.
“Confound the bars!” cried he. “Am I not unlucky? I have lost all my snuff!”