on this account, concentrating his indignation upon those who, as it
were, made aristocrats of innocent human beings against their will. It
was more than he would have ventured to say in public, but in talking to
me poppa often mentions what a comfort it is to be his own mouthpiece.

"The best thing about these tourists' tickets is," said the Senator as
we approached Paris, "that they entitle you to the use of an
interpreter. He is said to be found on all station platforms of
importance, and I presume he's standing there waiting for us now. I take
it we're at liberty to tap his knowledge of the language in any moment
of difficulty just as if it were our own."

Ten minutes later the carriage doors were opening upon Paris, and the
Senator's eagle eye was searching the crowded platform for this
official. Our vague idea was that the interpreter would be a conspicuous
and permanent object like a nickle-in-the-slot machine, automatically
arranged to open his arms to tourists presenting the right tickets, and
emit conversation. When we finally detected him, by his cap, he was
shifting uneasily in the midst of a crowd of inquirers. His face was
pale, his beard pointed, his expression that of a person constantly
interrupted in many languages. The crowd was parting to permit him to
escape, when we filled up the available avenue and confronted him.

"Are you the linguist that goes with our tickets?" asked the Senator.

"I am ze interpretare yes, but weez ze tickets I go not, no. All-ways I
stay here in zis place, nowheres I go." He stood at bay, so to speak,
frowning fiercely as he replied, and then made another bolt for liberty,
but poppa laid a compelling hand upon his arm.