excuse me...."

"One moment more, my dear Monsieur Choucru," said Müller, slipping his
hand affectionately through the little man's arm. "For myself, as I have
already told you, I can accept nothing--but I am bound in honor not to
neglect the interests of the journal I represent. You will of course
wish to express your sense of the compliment paid to your house by
adding your name to the subscription list of the _Petit Courier
Illustré_?"

"Oh, by--by all means--with pleasure," faltered the propriétaire.

"For how many copies, Monsieur Choucru? Shall we say--six?"

Monsieur looked at Madame. Madame nodded. Müller took out his
pocket-book, and waited, pencil in hand.

"Eh--_parbleu_!--let it be for six, then," said Monsieur Choucru,
somewhat reluctantly.

Müller made the entry, shut up the pocket-book, and shook hands
boisterously with his victim.

"My dear Monsieur Choucru," he said, "I cannot tell you how gratifying
this is to my feelings, or with what disinterested satisfaction I shall
make your establishment known to the Parisian public. You shall be
immortalized, my dear fellow--positively immortalized!"

"_Bien obligé, M'sieur--bien obligé_. Will you not let my wife offer you
a glass of liqueure?"