long time? Why didn't you write and let me know you were in England?
But, see, Anastasius, I have visitors. Let me introduce you."

She spoke in French fluently, but with a frank British accent, which
grated on a fastidious ear. The dwarf rose, made two solemn bows, and
declared himself enchanted. Although his head was too large for
his body, he was neither ill-made nor repulsive. He looked about
thirty-five. A high forehead, dark, mournful eyes, and a black moustache
and imperial gave him an odd resemblance to Napoleon the Third.

"I arrived from New York this morning, with my cats. Oh, a mad success.
I have one called Phoebus, because he drives a chariot drawn by six
rats. Phoebus Apollo was the god of the sun. I must show him to you,
Madonna. You would love him as I love you. And I also have an angora,
my beautiful Santa Bianca. And you, gentlemen"--he turned to Dale and
myself and addressed us in his peculiar jargon of French, German,
and Italian--"you must come and see my cats if I can get a London
engagement. At present I must rest. The artist needs repose sometimes.
I will sun myself in the smiles of our dear lady here, and my pupil and
assistant, Quast, can look after my cats. Meanwhile the brain of the
artist," he tapped his brow, "needs to lie fallow so that he can invent
fresh and daring combinations. Do such things interest you, messieurs?"

"Vastly," said I.

He pulled out of his breast pocket an enormous gilt-bound pocket-book,
bearing a gilt monogram of such size that it looked like a cartouche
on an architectural panel, and selected therefrom three cards which he
gravely distributed among us. They bore the legend: