Monsieur was right. 'And never without a dog. The dog is very important.' Again Monsieur was
right. The dog was very important. People were justly interested in the
dog. As one of the dogs celebrated everywhere,
Ma'amselle would observe. Ma'amselle was a little slow to observe it, as though she were not yet
well accustomed to the French tongue. Mrs General, however, observed it
for her. 'Ask him if he has saved many lives?' said, in his native English, the
young man who had been put out of countenance.
The host needed no translation of the question. He promptly replied in
French, 'No. Not this one.' 'Why not?' the same gentleman asked. 'Pardon,' returned the host composedly, 'give him the opportunity and
he will do it without doubt. For example, I am well convinced,' smiling
sedately, as he cut up the dish of veal to be handed round, on the young
man who had been put out of countenance, 'that if you, Monsieur, would
give him the opportunity, he would hasten with great ardour to fulfil
his duty.' The artist traveller laughed. The insinuating traveller (who evinced
a provident anxiety to get his full share of the supper), wiping some
drops of wine from his moustache with a piece of bread, joined the
conversation. 'It is becoming late in the year, my Father,' said he, 'for
tourist-travellers, is it not?' 'Yes, it is late. Yet two or three weeks, at most, and we shall be left
to the winter snows.' 'And then,' said the insinuating traveller, 'for
the scratching dogs and the buried children, according to the pictures!'
'Pardon,' said the host, not quite understanding the allusion. 'How,
then the scratching dogs and the buried children according to the
pictures?' The artist traveller struck in again before an answer could be given. 'Don't you know,' he coldly inquired across the table of his companion,
'that none but smugglers come this way in the winter or can have any
possible business this way?' 'Holy blue! No; never heard of it.'
'So it is, I believe. And as they know the signs of the weather
tolerably well, they don't give much employment to the dogs--who have
consequently died out rather--though this house of entertainment is
conveniently situated for themselves. Their young families, I am told,
they usually leave at home. But it's a grand idea!' cried the artist
traveller, unexpectedly rising into a tone of enthusiasm. 'It's a
sublime idea. It's the finest idea in the world, and brings tears into
a man's eyes, by Jupiter!' He then went on eating his veal with great
composure. There was enough of mocking inconsistency at the bottom of this speech
to make it rather discordant, though the manner was refined and the
person well-favoured, and though the depreciatory part of it was so
skilfully thrown off as to be very difficult for one not perfectly
acquainted with the English language to understand, or, even
understanding, to take offence at: so simple and dispassionate was its
tone. After finishing his veal in the midst of silence, the speaker
again addressed his friend.