Paris, we might find work enough in Madrid or in Berlin. He wouldn't so much as listen to me.
"Is it a bagman I am?" he asked one day when I was harping on the old string again. "Must I be running round the country seeing who'll buy me wares? Indeed, and I'll stop where I am "
"Until the money is spent, sir," I hinted.
"A curse upon the money!" said he. "It's nothing but the money you think of the week through. Am I a pauper, then? And who's to put gold in me purse in Germany? Bedad! I'd as soon spend a week in the Mazas as in that same country. There was no gentleman ever came out of Germany—no, nor honest liquor either. I'd be dead in a week of their beef."
I did not answer him, for he never was a man you could persuade when he was in one of his tempers. He dined that night at the Hôtel Scribe with Jack Ames and his lot; and it was not until one o'clock in the morning that I saw him again. He was pretty well warmed up with the drink then, and directly he set eyes on me, he called out at the top of his lungs;
"Hildebrand, it's yourself I want and no other; fetch me the whiskey, and don't ye sing hymns on the way."
I got him the drink, and when he had pulled out a great handful of cigars and dropped half of them on the pavement, he burst out with his news.
"Man," said he, "it's fine intelligence I have for ye. We're to be in St. Petersburg in three days!"
