The ambassador, guessing that his praises were being sung, duly put in motion that part of his mechanism necessary for bringing a smile to his face; then shook the Chevalier's hand violently, and without more ado took possession of Galban's other arm. And now both men towed their victim along, until they came face to face with a third man, whom Pushkin introduced to the Chevalier with the words-- "Sergius Sumikoff Alexievitsch." "Ah, the renowned conjuror! I have heard of your fame far and wide." The very word "conjuring," and, above all, the notion of befooling others for the general amusement, had just then become the fashion, in Paris especially--of course to be readily imitated in St. Petersburg. "But you have not heard his latest," broke in Pushkin, "the story about the negro? I must tell it you; it is such a joke. Sumikoff painted his face jet black, and gave himself out to be Prince Milinkoff's black slave. We were all in the fun, save Count Petroniefsky; he was to be fooled. Mungo played the piano and guitar, spoke Greek, Latin, declaimed Schiller, uncommonly rare acquirements in a negro slave. Moreover, he had all kinds of interesting details to tell, among others, how, when king in his native land, he had had his prime-minister, convicted of theft, crushed to death in a mortar. Petroniefsky, awfully taken with the fellow, goes to Milinkoff, and offers to purchase him. Milinkoff at first refuses; he is his favorite slave, can't part with him, etc. At length they settle the matter for six thousand rubles. On receiving the purchase-money Milinkoff gives his friend a hint to keep a sharp eye on the fellow, as he is deucedly fond of giving his owner the slip. The count answers, he'll see to that. Of course, the very first night Sumikoff washes off his Chinese black, and quietly takes himself off, without any concealment, through the open palace gates. We ordered a jolly supper for the six thousand rubles, and Petroniefsky has no idea to this day that it was he who paid the piper. He still daily routs up the unlucky police officials to bring him back his negro." Every one laughed, Galban, with the others, all the time thinking, "Does my new friend really think with such worn-out anecdotes to keep me in pawn, and prevent my seeing that for which I came?" And he did see it. He was an adept in the art of recognizing people from description, and amidst the noisiest surroundings to find that of which he was in search.