"I was pouring a glass of Chateau Yquem at de time,--to look after de oysters,--an' I di'n' pay so much attention to w'at he was saying--I can never pour a glass an' speak at de same time. I spill my words or de wine, sure. So it happened dat w'en I put me de bottle down, my eye passed out de window. Oh, hush! No, not my eye, of co'se--I mean my sight. Well, dat li'l' bird it was still waiting in the same place, in de magnolia-tree, an' w'en I looked, it give me one glance, sideways, like a finger on de nose, an' it opened wide its bill, an' just so plain as I am speaking now, _it spoke a name_." This in still lower voice. "But I said nothing, immediately. A little wine, for a few glasses, it make me prudent--_up to a certain point_, of co'se. _Mais_, direc'ly, I looked at my friend, an' wid w'at you might call an air of _nonchalance_, I repeat to him de name _ex_ac'ly as it was tol' to me by de li'l' bird in de magnolia-tree. An' wa't you t'ink he said?" "Oh, go on. W'at he say?" "You want to know w'at he said? Well, dat I can tell you. He was greatly astonish', an' he whispered to me, '_Who tol' you? You are not in de Pickwick?_'" "Oh, a little bird tol' me!" I answered him. "_No, I am not in de club._" "_But the name? Do tell us!_" "Oh, no. I cannot. If I _told_, dat would be _telling_, eh?" "Sure! It is not necessary," said another. "Well, I am pleased, me." "_An'_ me!" "I like always to listen w'en you tell somet'ing, Felix. Your story is all right--an' _I believe you_. I always believe any man in de Pickwick Club--_on some subjects_! _Mais_, ol' man, de nex' time you make a story at Leon's restaurant, suppose you move off dat magnolia-tree. A bird could stand on de window-sill across de street jus' as well--a real window-sill." "T'ank you. I am sure a _real_ somet'ing-to-stand-on would be better for _a real bird_. _Mais_, for dis particular bird, I t'ink my magnolia is more suitable. Don't forget de story of de Mongoose!" "Nobody can get ahead of you, Felix. Well, it is a good t'ing. It is true, her fodder was de King at las' year's Carnival--an' it is lightning striking twice in de same place; an' yet--" "And yet," the American interrupted, "and yet it will sometimes strike twice in the same place--if the attraction is sufficient. I have a friend who has a summer home in the Tennessee mountains which was twice struck--three times, nearly. That is the house next door got it the third time. And then they began to investigate, and they found the mountain full of iron--iron convertible into gold." "Well, and our man of iron, let us hope he may prove always an attraction--for bolts of good fortune!" "A wish that may come true; if reports be correct, he is rapidly turning into gold," said the American. "I am told that he has found salt in immense deposits on his island--and that he has resumed the work begun just before the war--that of opening up the place."