“I know that,” said Eusebe. “On the contrary, you offered me your rolls of tobacco, for which I am obliged.” “Ah! you are from Monsieur de Pourceaugnac’s neighborhood,” said the other, who until now had remained silent. “I do not know the gentleman,” replied Eusebe: “my father and I live a very retired life.” “Naïve, upon my word!” cried the smoker. “He ought to be framed. What, young man! you do not know the gayest of Molière’s heroes?” “I have never been away from the Capelette, sir, and my condition does not allow me to become acquainted with heroes. I do not even know where Molière is situated.” The two travellers burst into a hearty laugh. “Gentlemen,” said Eusebe, when the hilarity of his neighbors had ceased, “you amuse yourselves at my expense, because I am ignorant, which, I think, is any thing but kind of you. You indiscreetly questioned me; I answered: I might have remained silent. Recollect, I beg of you, that you meddled with my affairs, and that I have not concerned myself about yours. I have not asked you whence you come, where you are going, or who you are. When you laughed at me, I might have thrown you out of the window; but I did not do it, and you ought to be thankful.” “Out of the window! Not so fast, my dear sir.” “I could certainly have done it,” said Eusebe, with simplicity. “Pardon me,” said the second traveller. “We do not wish to make ourselves disagreeable. You are too quick to take offence. I am in the habit of travelling a great deal. During the last ten years, my friend and I have been almost always _en route_. Whenever we find ourselves in company, we ask how _it happens_, where our companions come from, and where they are going. That helps to while away the time, and injures no one.” “And is that all you travel for?” asked Eusebe. “What an idea! We are travelling clerks: we represent two of the first houses in Paris.” “However great my simplicity may be,” replied Eusebe, “I think there are no first houses in Paris, and, what is more, that there can be none, since the first on arriving from the north are the last when one comes from the south.” They arrived at Paris, and Martin, junior, got out of the car. With his valise in his hand, Eusebe stepped out of the depot, when a cabman cried out to him,-- “Here you are, sir! Where shall I drive you to, sir?” “I don’t know,” replied Eusebe. “It’s not me that’ll tell you, then.” “I have not asked you.” “Eh! do you hear that? Here is a gentleman that don’t know where he is going.” “Mind your own business.” “Bah! you lubber! you haven’t a sou.” The provincial was about to reply, when the cabman, to whom a traveller had just made a sign, hurried away. “These people do not seem to be very familiar with the laws of hospitality,” thought Eusebe: “they call you to insult you. What does all this mean?” CHAPTER IV.