“Yes, Pettermann; and I fancy that we shall stay here a few days longer. You are not bored here, I hope?” “No, monsieur, I am never bored anywhere, myself; besides, the wine is good here. By the way, what day of the month is it?” “The seventeenth.” “The deuce! only the seventeenth! this month is very long!” I guessed why he asked me the question, and I said to him: “As you consider the wine good here, as I am enjoying myself, and as it is fair that you should do the same, act as if it were the end of the month.” “Oh, no! a bargain is sacred, monsieur. Since I have been with you, I have learned to respect myself; and if I do get drunk once a month still, it is because I should be sick if I should stop drinking entirely. But never mind; if the wine is good here, the women are terribly inquisitive! prout!” “The women are inquisitive? How do you know that?” “Because these last few days they have done nothing but hang round me to try to make me talk.” “Who, pray?” “At first it was the landlady and the servants in the inn; but when they found that that didn’t work, there was a good-looking young woman who came to me herself, as if by accident.” “A lady who lives in the hotel?” “Yes, the one with the little uncle who talks all the time.” “Mademoiselle Derbin?” “Just so.” “What did she ask you?” “She acted as if she just happened to pass through the yard where I was; she asked me first: ‘Are you in Monsieur Dalbreuse’s service?’ “‘Yes, mademoiselle.’” “You should have told her, Pettermann, that you were travelling with me, but not as my servant.” “Why so, monsieur? I consider myself very lucky to belong to you; and as there must always be one who does what the other says, it is right that you should be the one to give the orders; therefore you are the master.” “What then, Pettermann?” “Then, that young woman--or rather that lady--continued: ‘Have you been with Monsieur Dalbreuse long?’ “‘About two years.’ “‘He seems like a very agreeable man, Monsieur Dalbreuse?’ “‘He isn’t cross, mademoiselle.’ “‘What does he do in Paris?’ “All those questions began to tire me, and I replied rather short: “‘He does what he chooses, mademoiselle; it doesn’t make any difference to me.’--At that she went away. But in a minute she came skipping back, and said to me almost in my ear, as she tried to slip a gold-piece into my hand: “‘He is a bachelor, isn’t he?’--I didn’t take the money, but I touched my hat and said: “’ Yes, mademoiselle, he is a bachelor.’--At that she began to laugh, and went away, saying: “‘The servant is almost as unique as the master.’--Upon my word, if she isn’t inquisitive, I don’t know who is.”