I began to recite my lesson in stumbling French.

"Why, what are you? Oh, you're English! Then in Heaven's name, speak
English--not that gabble." And then he repeated his order, "Speak
English," in English, and continued in that language, which he spoke with
stiff formal correctness.

He heard my account of myself with unmoved face.

"Have you any writings--any testimonials?" he asked.

"No, my lord," I stammered, addressing him in style I thought most natural
to my assumed character.

"That's a little curious, isn't it? You become intoxicated everywhere,
perhaps?"

"I've never been intoxicated in my life, my lord," said I, humbly but
firmly.

"Then you dispute the justice of your dismissal?"

"Yes, my lord." I thought such protest due to my original.

He looked at me closely, smoking his cigar the while.

"You made love to the chambermaids?" he asked suddenly.

"No, my lord. One evening, my lord, it was very hot, and--and the wine, my
lord--"