"Leave him alone, then, poor devil!"

"Nonsense! If he chooses to be annoyed, that's his business, and not
mine. Now, you'll see."

And Müller, alert for mischief, stared fixedly at the old gentleman in
the opposite corner for some minutes--then sighed--roused himself as if
from a profound reverie--seized his portfolio--took out a pencil and
sketch-book--mended the pencil with an elaborate show of fastidiousness
and deliberation--stared again--drew a deep breath--turned somewhat
aside, as if anxious to conceal his object, and began sketching rapidly.
Now and then he paused; stole a furtive glance over his shoulder; bit
his lip; rubbed out; corrected; glanced again; and then went on rapidly
as before.

In the meanwhile the old gentleman, who was somewhat red and irascible,
began to get seriously uncomfortable. He frowned, fidgeted, coughed,
buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jealously watched every proceeding
of his tormentor. A general smile dawned upon the faces of the rest of
the travellers. The priest over the way pinched his lips together, and
looked down demurely. The two girls, next to the priest, tittered behind
their handkerchiefs. The young man with the blue cravat sucked the top
of his cane, and winked openly at his companions, both of whom were
cracking nuts, and flinging the shells down the embankment. Presently
Müller threw his head back, held the drawing off, still studiously
keeping the back of it towards the rest of the passengers; looked at it
with half-closed eyes; stole another exceedingly cautious glance at his
victim; and then, affecting for the first time to find himself observed,
made a vast show of pretending to sketch the country through which we
were passing.