He followed the "sandwich-man," and was soon in the Japanese quarter once again. In about a quarter of an hour they stopped before a large hut, adorned with flags, upon which a troupe of jugglers were depicted, without any attempt at perspective. This was the establishment of the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, a sort of Barnum, a director of a troupe of acrobats and jugglers, who were giving their last representations, prior to their departure to the United States. Passe-partout entered and asked for the proprietor. Mr. Batulcar appeared in person. "What do you want?" he said to Passe-partout, whom he took for a native. "Do you need a servant, sir?" asked Passe-partout. "A servant!" echoed the Barnum, as he stroked his beard; "I have two, obedient and faithful, who have never left me, and serve me for nothing but nourishment; and here they are," he added, as he extended his brawny arms, on which the great veins stood out like whipcord. "So I can be of no use to you, then?" "Not the least." "The devil! It would have been very convenient if I could have sailed with you." "Ah, yes," said the Honourable Batulcar; "you are just about as much a Japanese as I am a baboon, I guess. What are you dressed up like that for?" "One is obliged to dress as one can." "That's a fact. You are a Frenchman, ain't you?" "Yes; a Parisian." "Then I suppose you know how to make grimaces?" "Well," replied Passe-partout, somewhat vexed that his nationality should provoke such a question. "It is true that we Frenchmen do know how to make grimaces, but no better than Americans." "That's so. Well, if I cannot take you as a servant I can engage you as a clown. You see, my lad, this is how it is: in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign countries French clowns." "I see." "You are pretty strong, I suppose?" "More particularly when I get up after dinner." "And you know how to sing?" "Yes," replied Passe-partout, who at one time had sung in the street concerts. "But can you sing standing on your head with a top spinning on the sole of your left foot, and a sword balanced on your right foot?" "Something of that sort," replied Passe-partout, who recalled the acrobatic performances of his youth. "Well, that is the whole business," replied the Honourable Mr. Batulcar. And the engagement was ratified there and then. At length Passe-partout had found something to do. He was engaged to make one of a celebrated Japanese troupe. This was not a high position, but in eight days he would be on his way to San Francisco. The performance was advertised to commence at three o'clock, and although Passe-partout had not rehearsed the "business," he was obliged to form one of the human pyramid composed of the "Long-Noses of the God Tingou." This was the great attraction, and was to close the performance.