As I sat brooding over my fire that same evening, my door was suddenly opened, and a large burly man, looming even larger from an immense fur pelisse that he wore, entered. His first care was to divest himself of a tall Astracan cap, from which he flung off some snow-flakes, and then to throw off his pelisse, stamping the snow from his great boots, which reached half-way up the thigh. “You see,” cried he, at last, with a jovial air,--“you see I come, like a good comrade, and make myself at home at once.” “I certainly see so much,” said I, dryly; “but whom have I the honor to receive?” “You have the honor to receive Gustave Maurice de Marsac, young man, a gentleman of Dauphiné, who now masquerades in the character of first traveller for the respectable house of Hodnig and Oppovich.” “I am proud to make your acquaintance, M. de Marsac,” said I, offering my band. “What age are you?” cried he, staring fixedly at me. “You can't be twenty?” “No, I am not twenty.” “And they purpose to send you down to replace _me!_” cried he; and he threw himself back in his chair, and shook with laughter. “I see all the presumption; but I can only say it was none of my doing.” “No, no; don't say presumption,” said he, in a half-coaxing tone. “But I may say it, without vanity, it is not every man's gift to be able to succeed Gustave de Marsac. May I ask for a cigar? Thanks. A real Cuban, I verily believe. I finished my tobacco two posts from this, and have been smoking all the samples--pepper and hemp-seed amongst them--since then.” “May I offer you something to eat?” “You may, if you accompany it with something to drink. Would you believe it, Oppovich and his daughter were at supper when I arrived to report myself; and neither of them as much as said, Chevalier--I mean Mon. de Marsac--won't you do us the honor to join us? No. Old Ignaz went on with his meal,--cold veal and a potato salad, I think it was; and the fair Sara examined my posting-book to see I had made no delay on the road; but neither offered me even the courtesy of a glass of wine.” “I don't suspect it was from any want of hospitality,” I began. “An utter want of everything, _mon cher_. Want of decency; want of delicacy; want of due deference to a man of birth and blood. I see you are sending your servant out. Now, I beg, don't make a stranger--don't make what we call a 'Prince Russe' of me. A little quiet supper, and something to wash it down; good fellowship will do the rest. May I give your man the orders?” “You will confer a great favor on me,” said I. He took my servant apart, and whispered a few minutes with him at the window. “Try Kleptomitz first,” said he aloud, as the man was leaving; “and mind you say M. Marsac sent you. Smart 'bursche' you've got there. If you don't take him with you, hand him over to me.” “I will do so,” said I; “and am happy to have secured him a good master.”