stranger you can't be sure that they won't give you Italian silver, you
know."

"Oh, I know," I answered. I knew, too, that he wished me to purchase
something. I followed the course of her groping hands, caught sight of
the _Revue Rouge_, and remembered that it contained something about
Greenland. I helped myself to it, paid for it, and received my just
change. I felt that I had satisfied the little man, and felt satisfied
with myself.

"I want to see Radet's article on Greenland," I said.

"Oh, yes," he explained, once more exhibiting himself in the capacity of
the man who knows, "Radet gives it to them. Rather a lark, I call it,
though you mustn't let old de Mersch know you read him. Radet got sick
of Cochin, and tried Greenland. He's getting touched by the Whites you
know. They say that the priests don't like the way the Système's playing
into the hands of the Protestants and the English Government. So they
set Radet on to write it down. He's going in for mysticism and all that
sort of thing--just like all these French jokers are doing. Got deuced
thick with that lot in the F. St. Germain--some relation of yours,
ain't they? Rather a lark that lot, quite the thing just now, everyone
goes there; old de Mersch too. Have frightful rows sometimes, such a
mixed lot, you see." The good little man rattled amiably along beside
me.

"Seems quite funny to be buying books," he said. "I haven't read a thing
I've bought, not for years."

We reached the Opera in time for the end of the first act--it was Aïda,