himself； and falling to upon a fourth； began contentedly to work his way
through them as if to clear them off were a sort of game。
Perhaps he glanced at the Lyons sausage； and perhaps he glanced at the
veal in savoury jelly； but they were not there long； to make his mouth
water； Monsieur Rigaud soon dispatched them； in spite of the president
and tribunal； and proceeded to suck his fingers as clean as he could；
and to wipe them on his vine leaves。 Then； as he paused in his drink
to contemplate his fellow…prisoner； his moustache went up； and his nose
came down。
'How do you find the bread？'
'A little dry； but I have my old sauce here；' returned John Baptist；
holding up his knife。 'How sauce？'
'I can cut my bread so……like a melon。 Or so……like an omelette。 Or
so……like a fried fish。 Or so……like Lyons sausage；' said John Baptist；
demonstrating the various cuts on the bread he held； and soberly chewing
what he had in his mouth。
'Here！' cried Monsieur Rigaud。 'You may drink。 You may finish this。'
It was no great gift； for there was mighty little wine left； but Signor
Cavalletto； jumping to his feet； received the bottle gratefully； turned
it upside down at his mouth； and smacked his lips。
'Put the bottle by with the rest；' said Rigaud。
The little man obeyed his orders； and stood ready to give him a lighted
match； for he was now rolling his tobacco into cigarettes by the aid of
little squares of paper which had been brought in with it。
'Here！ You may have one。'
'A thousand thanks； my master！' John Baptist said in his own language；
and anner of his own countrymen。
Monsieur Rigaud arose； lighted a cigarette； put the rest of his stock
into a breast…pocket； and stretched himself out at full length upon the
bench。 Cavalletto sat down on the pavement； holding one of his ankles in
each hand； and smoking peacefully。 There seemed to be some unfortable
attraction of Monsieur Rigaud's eyes to the immediate neighbourhood of
that part of the pavement where the thumb had been in the plan。 They
were so drawn in that direction； that the Italian more than once
followed them to and back from the pavement in some surprise。
'What an infernal hole this is！' said Monsieur Rigaud； breaking a long
pause。 'Look at the light of day。 Day？ the light of yesterday week； the
light of six months ago； the light of six years ago。 So slack and dead！'
It came languishing down a square funnel that blinded a window in the
staircase wall； through which the sky was never seen……nor anything else。
'Cavalletto；' said Monsieur Rigaud； suddenly withdrawing his gaze from
this funnel to which they had both involuntarily turned their eyes； 'you
know me for a gentleman？'
'Surely； surely！'
'How long have we been here？' 'I； eleven weeks； to…morrow night at
midnight。 You； nine weeks and three days； at five this afternoon。'
'Have I ever done anything here？ Ever touched the broom； or spread
the mats； or rolled them up； or found the draughts； or collected the
dominoes； or put my hand to any kind of work？'
'Never！'
'Have you ever thought of looking to me to do any kind of work？'
John Baptist answered with that peculiar back…handed shake of the
right forefinger which is the most expressive negative in the Italian
language。
'No！ You knew from the first moment when you saw me here； that I was a
gentleman？'
'ALTRO！' returned John Baptist； closing his eyes and giving his head a
most vehement toss。 The word being； according to its Genoese emphasis；
a confirmation； a contradiction； an assertion； a denial； a taunt；
a pliment； a joke； and fifty other things； became in the present
instance； with a significance beyond all power of written expression；
our familiar English 'I believe you！'
'Haha！ You are right！ A gentleman I am！ And a gentleman I'll live； and
a gentleman I'll die！ It's my intent to be a gentleman。 It's my game。
Death of my soul； I play it out wherever I go！'
He changed his posture to a sitting one； crying with a triumphant air：
'Here I am！ See me！ Shaken out of destiny's dice…box into the pany
of a mere smuggler；……shut up with a poor little contraband trader； whose
papers are wrong； and whom the police lay hold of besides； for placing
his boat （as a means of getting beyond the frontier） at the disposition
of other little people whose papers are wrong； and he instinctively
recognises my position； even by this light and in this place。 It's well
done！ By Heaven！ I win； however the game goes。'
Again his moustache went up； and his nose came down。
'What's the hour now？' he asked； with a dry hot pallor upon him； rather
difficult of association with merriment。
'A little half…hour after mid…day。'
'Good！ The President will have a gentleman before him soon。 e！
Shall I tell you on what accusation？ It must be now； or never； for I
shall not return here。 Either I shall go free； or I shall go to be made
ready for shaving。 You know where they keep the razor。'
Signor Cavalletto took his cigarette from between his parted lips； and
showed more momentary disfiture than might have been expected。
'I am a'……Monsieur Rigaud stood up to say it……'I am a cosmopolitan
gentleman。 I own no particular country。 My father was Swiss……Canton de
Vaud。 My mother was French by blood； English by birth。 I myself was born
in Belgium。 I am a citizen of the world。'
His theatrical air； as he stood with one arm on his hip within the folds
of his cloak； together with his manner of disregarding his panion
and addressing the opposite wall instead； seemed to intimate that he
was rehearsing for the President； whose examination he was shortly to
undergo； rather than troubling himself merely to enlighten so small a
person as John Baptist Cavalletto。
'Call me five…and…thirty years of age。 I have seen the world。 I have
lived here； and lived there； and lived like a gentleman everywhere。 I
have been treated and respected as a gentleman universally。 If you try
to prejudice me by making out that I have lived by my wits……how do
your lawyers live……your politicians……your intriguers……your men of the
Exchange？'
He kept his small smooth hand in constant requisition； as if it were a
witness to his gentility that had often done him good service before。
'Two years ago I came to Marseilles。 I admit that I was poor； I had been
ill。 When your lawyers； your politicians； your intriguers； your men of
the Exchange fall ill； and have not scraped money together； they bee
poor。 I put up at the Cross of Gold；……kept then by Monsieur Henri
Barronneau……sixty…five at least； and in a failing state of health。 I had
lived in the house some four months when Monsieur Henri Barronneau had
the misfortune to die；……at any rate； not a rare misfortune； that。 It
happens without any aid of mine； pretty often。'
John Baptist having smoked his cigarette down to his fingers' ends；
Monsieur Rigaud had the magnanimity to throw him another。 He lighted the
second at the ashes of the first； and smoked on； looking sideways at his
panion； who； preoccupied with his own case； hardly looked at him。
'Monsieur Barronneau left a widow。 She was two…and…twenty。 She had
gained a reputation for beauty； and （which is ofte