“Not, sir, that I know of; he may be here, though; but you had better inquire from the proprietor himself, who—mark me, sir—I say—harkee—you have humanity in your face—will probably refuse to tell you whether he is here or not, or deny him altogether. Harkee, again, sir—the fellow is a villain—that is, entre nous, but mum's the word between us.”
“I am sorry,” replied the stranger, “to hear such a character of him from you, who should know him.”
“Well, sir,” replied the other, “let that pass—verbum sap. And now tell me, when have you been at the theater?”
“Not for some months,” returned the other.
“Have you ever heard Catalani shake?”
“Yes,” replied the stranger. “I have had that pleasure.”
“Well, sir, I'm delighted that you have heard her, for there is but one man living who can rival her in the shake; and, sir, you have the honor of addressing that man.”
This was said so mildly, calmly, rationally, and with that gentlemanlike air of undoubted respectability, which gives to an assertion such an impress of truth, that the stranger, confused as he was by what he had seen, felt it rather difficult to draw the line at the moment, especially in such society, between a sane man and an insane one.
“Would you wish, sir,” said the guide, “to hear a specimen of my powers?”
“If you please,” replied the stranger, “provided you will confine yourself to the shake.”