Richling smiled candidly. "Your company's worth all it costs, Narcisse. Excuse me; I always forget your last name--and your first is so appropriate." It _was_ worth all it cost, though Richling could ill afford the purchase. The young Latin's sweet, abysmal ignorance, his infantile amiability, his artless ambition, and heathenish innocence started the natural gladness of Richling's blood to effervescing anew every time they met, and, through the sheer impossibility of confiding any of his troubles to the Creole, made him think them smaller and lighter than they had just before appeared. The very light of Narcisse's countenance and beauty of his form--his smooth, low forehead, his thick, abundant locks, his faintly up-tipped nose and expanded nostrils, his sweet, weak mouth with its impending smile, his beautiful chin and bird's throat, his almond eyes, his full, round arm, and strong thigh--had their emphatic value. So now, Richling, a moment earlier borne down by the dreadful shadow of the Parish Prison, left it behind him as he walked and laughed and chatted with his borrower. He felt very free with Narcisse, for the reason that would have made a wiser person constrained,--lack of respect for him. "Mistoo Itchlin, you know," said the Creole, "I like you to call me Nahcisse. But at the same time my las' name is Savillot." He pronounced it Sav-_veel_-yo. "Thass a somewot Spanish name. That double l got a twist in it." "Oh, call it Papilio!" laughed Richling. "Papillon!" exclaimed Narcisse, with delight. "The buttehfly! All a-'ight; you kin juz style me that! 'Cause thass my natu'e, Mistoo Itchlin; I gatheh honey eve'y day fum eve'y opening floweh, as the bahd of A-von wemawk." So they went on. _Ad infinitum?_ Ah, no! The end was just as plainly in view to both from the beginning as it was when, at length, the two stepping across the street gutter at the last corner between Richling and home, Narcisse laid his open hand in his companion's elbow, and stopped, saying, as Richling turned and halted with a sudden frown of unwillingness:-- "I tell you 'ow 'tis with me, Mistoo Itchlin, I've p'oject that manneh myseff; in weading a book--w'en I see a beaucheouz idee, I juz take a pencil"--he drew one from his pocket--"check! I check it. So w'en I wead the same book again, then I take notiz I've check that idee and I look to see what I check it faw. 'Ow you like that invention, eh?" "Very simple," said Richling, with an unpleasant look of expectancy. "Mistoo Itchlin," resumed the other, "do you not fine me impooving in my p'onouncement of yo' lang-widge? I fine I don't use such bad land-widge like biffo. I am shue you muz' 'ave notiz since some time I always soun' that awer in yo' name. Mistoo Itchlin, will you 'ave that kin'ness to baw me two-an-a-'alf till the lass of that month?" Richling looked at him a moment in silence, and then broke into a short, grim laugh.