and may be taken as a preface to conversation; to omit it is to show
lack of breeding and to court hostility. Therefore, N.B. _Rule in
travelling_--Bow to everybody. And this, by the way, is, after all,
only _Sir Pertinax Macsycophant's_ receipt for getting on in the world
by "boo'ing and boo'ing."

We pass through a courtyard, reminding me of the kind of courtyard
still to be seen in some of our old London City houses-of-business.
This, however, is modernised with whitewash. Here also, it being a
Continental court-yard, are the inevitable orange-trees in huge green
tubs placed at the four corners. A few pigeons feeding, a blinking
cat curled up on a mat, pretending to take no sort of interest in the
birds, and a little child playing with a cart. Such is this picture.
Externally, not much like a house of business; but it is, and of big
business too. We enter a cool and tastefully furnished apartment.
Here M. VESQUIER receives us cordially. He has a military bearing,
suggesting the idea of a Colonel _en retraite_. I am preparing
compliments and interrogatories in French, when he says, in good plain
English, with scarcely an accent--

"Now DAUBINET has brought you here, we must show you the calves, and
then back to breakfast. Will that suit you?"

"Perfectly." I think to myself--why "calves"? It sounded like
"calves," only without the "S." Must ask presently.

M. VESQUIER begs to be excused for a minute; he will return directly.
I look to DAUBINET for an explanation. "We are, then, going to see a
farm, I presume?" I say to him. "Farm!" exclaims DAUBINET, surprised.
"_Que voulez-vous dire, mon cher?_"--"Well, didn't Mister--Mister--"