The mechanic who was standing by the motor thought good to intervene, and to point out to M. le Baron that the vehicle could be turned into an open six-seater, or a closed phaeton with seats for four. Seeing that he was dealing with connoisseurs, he launched out into technical explanations. “The motor is composed of two horizontal cylinders; each piston works a crank inclined at 180° to its neighbour.” In businesslike terms he demonstrated the advantages of such a combination. Then, in answer to a question by Gustave Dellion, he said that the carburettor was automatic, and to be regulated once for all at the moment of starting. He stopped speaking, and the two young fellows stood there silent and attentive. At last, pushing his stick between the spokes of one of the wheels, Gustave Dellion remarked: “Do you see, Bonmont? Steering is done by differential gear!” “It is very easy to handle,” said the mechanic. Gustave Dellion loved an automobile, and not, like Bonmont, with an already satiated love. He gazed at the vehicle which, in spite of the stiffness of modern body-work, looked like a great animal, a conventional, banal, though well-behaved monster, with an apology for a head between the lamps that looked like two huge eyes. “Not such a bad puff-puff,” whispered young Bonmont to his friend. “Why don’t you buy it?” “Buy it? Can you do anything you like when you are so unfortunate as to possess a father!” sighed Gustave Dellion. “You don’t know what a nuisance a family is--what a worry.” Then, with feigned assurance, he added, “And that, my dear Bonmont, reminds me that I owe you a small----” A friendly hand fell upon his shoulder, cutting him short, and to his surprise there stood at his side a little fair man, his head sunk between his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a slight hump, broad-chested, and strong-backed--a little, simple-looking, fair man, who regarded him with extraordinarily kind blue eyes and a sweet smile. “You old fool!” said this little man, suggesting a good-natured little buffalo shedding his wool on the bushes out of pure kindness of heart. Gustave no longer recognized the Bonmont he had known, and was both touched and surprised. Jumping into the car, the little Baron began to handle the steering-wheel under the benevolent eye of the mechanic. “So you drive, Bonmont?” ventured Gustave with deference. “Occasionally,” returned young Bonmont.