“All right,” returned Frere in the same tone, “he’s only an exiled something. He came to our shop with a recommendation from some of the Parisian _savans_ the other day.” “I must trouble you _once_ again, Mr. Bracy,” insinuated Lady Lombard. “Professor Malchapeau is _dying_ to be introduced.” “No trouble, but a pleasure,” returned Bracy. “I shall have the greatest satisfaction in making two such illustrious individuals known to each other. Does the Professor speak English?” “Yas; I vas spik Angleesh von pritté veil,” replied the person alluded to, strutting forward on tiptoe. “I ave zie honaire to vish you how you did, my prince?” Frere made some reply, which Bracy paraphrased into “The descendant of many Shahs kisses the hem of the mantle of the Father of science.” The Professor’s “Angleesh” not providing him with a suitable reply ready made, he was obliged to resort to that refuge for destitute foreigners--a shrug and a grimace. Lady Lombard came to his assistance. “Now, Professor, suppose you were to tell his Highness your affecting history;” adding in a whisper, “Mr. Bracy, the interpreter, is connected with government, and might be of the greatest use to you.” “Ohf, miladi, if all zie bodies had your big heart in dem, zies vicked vorld should be von eaven,” replied the Professor, gratefully, through his talented nose. “My littel storie! ohf, zie Prince should not vant to ear him?” His Highness, however, being graciously pleased to signify his anxiety so to do, the small man resumed-- “Ah, _ma Patri!_ vhats I ave come thro’ for him, ven I vill _raconte_ nobody shall not belief.” “To enable the Prince to understand your account more clearly,” interrupted Bracy, “may I ask to what country it relates?” “Vidout von doubt, saire! you shall tell zie Prince dat my littel tale is Swish. My fadaire vas vot you call von mayor of zie canton of Zurich. My brodaire and myselfs vas his only schild; since a long time ve vas live very appy, _mais enfin_--but on his end--zie _sacré Autriche_--von bad Oystrish government, did vot you call oppress _ma pauvre patrie_, and my fadaire, _toujours brave_, got himself into von littel conspiration, vaire he did commit vat you call zie offence politique; vas trown to prison, and in his confinement he did die. Ah! ‘_mourir pour la patrie, c’est doux_,’ to die for zie country is zie--vat you call _doux_ in Angleesh?” “You will find the same word in both languages, Professor, only we pronounce it deuce,” replied Bracy politely.