"
"But monsieur does not know--does not understand. Tis--all t'is--iss my
life; eet iss here t'at I liff--not out t'ere," with a gesture of
disgust toward the door. "I could no more liff wit'out t'is t'an wit'out
my head!"
Rushford, looking at him curiously, saw that he was in deadly earnest.
"Really," he said, "you surprise me, Pelletan. I had never suspected in
you such depth of soul."
"Besides, monsieur," added Pelletan, leaning forward, "t'ese t'ings are
not all what t'ey seem--t'is dragon, par exemple, ees not off bronze,
but off t'e plaster of Paris--yet I lofe eet none t'e less--more,
perhaps, because off t'at fery fact."
"And these--ah--females," said Rushford, and waved his hand at the
serried photographs, "I suppose even they are necessary to your
existence."
"I lofe to look at t'em, monsieur," confessed Pelletan.
"Personal acquaintances, perhaps."
"Not all of t'em, monsieur; but t'ey haf about t'em t'e flavour off
Paris--off t'at tear Paris off which I tream each night; t'ey recall t'e
tays off my yout'!"
"Oh, are you a Parisian? I should never have suspected it. Your
accent--"
"I am off Elsass, monsieur. It wass, perhaps, for t'at reason t'at Paris
so won my heart."
"If I were as fond of the place as all that," observed Rushford,
laughing, "I'd have stayed there.
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