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Mistoo Itchlin, you would be aztonizh to know 'ow bad I want some money, in fact; exceb that I am too pwoud to dizclose you that state of my condition!" He paused and looked from John to Mary, and from Mary to John again. "Why, I'll declare," said Richling, sincerely, dropping forward with his chin on his hand, "I'm sorry to hear" But Narcisse interrupted.
But I tell you one thing, Mistoo Itchlin, I assu' you, and you will believe me, I would 'atheh be lock' outside of that building than to be lock' inside of the same. 'Cause you know why? 'Tis ve'y 'umid in that building. An thass a thing w'at I believe, Mistoo Itchlin; I believe w'en a building is v'ey 'umid it is not ve'y 'ealthsome. What is yo' opinion consunning that, Mistoo Itchlin?"
He glanced so suddenly at two or three street lads, who were the only on-lookers, that they shrank back a step. "Mistoo Itchlin," began Narcisse, once more, in a tone of polite dismay, "you aztonizh me. I assu' you, Mistoo Itchlin" Richling lifted his finger and shook it. "Don't you tell me that, sir! I will not be an object of astonishment to you! Not to you, sir! Not to you!"
"Ah, Mistoo Itchlin! if I had baw'd money ligue the huncle of my hant!" He waved his hand to the ceiling and looked up through that obstruction, as it were, to the witnessing sky. "But I hade that to baw'! I tell you 'ow 'tis with me, Mistoo Itchlin; I nevvah would consen' to baw' money on'y if I pay a big inte'es' on it.
Yes, I'm always well, in fact. At the same time nevvatheless, I fine myseff slightly sad. I s'pose 'tis natu'al a man what love the 'itings of Lawd By'on as much as me. You know, of co'se, the melancholic intelligens?" "No," said Richling; "has any one" "Lady By'on, seh. Yesseh. 'In the mids' of life' you know where we ah, Mistoo Itchlin, I su-pose?" "Is Lady Byron dead?" "Yesseh."
"Why but that isn't good news, then." Narcisse gave his head a bright, argumentative twitch. "Yesseh. 'Tis t'ue he 'efuse'; but ad the same time I dunno I thing he wasn' so mad about it as he make out. An' you know thass one thing, Mistoo Itchlin, whilce they got life they got hope; and hence I ente'tain the same."
The bes' of fwen's muz pawt, you know." He turned again to Richling with a face all beauty and a form all grace. "I was juz sitting mistfully all at once I says to myseff, 'Faw distwaction I'll go an' see Mistoo Itchlin. I don't know 'ow I juz 'appen'! Well, au 'evo', Mistoo Itchlin." Richling followed him out upon the door-step.
"I'll keep out of it." If Narcisse detected his mortified chagrin, he did not seem to. It was hard; the day's last hope was blown out like a candle in the wind. Richling dared not risk the wetting of his suit of clothes; they were his sole letter of recommendation and capital in trade. "Well, au 'evoi', Mistoo Itchlin." He turned and moved off dip, glide, and away. Dr.
"Mistoo Itchlin," said Narcisse, with sudden, quavering fervor, "you kin len' me two dollahs! I gi'e you my honah the moze sacwed of a gen'leman, Mistoo Itchlin, I nevvah hass you ag'in so long I live!" He extended a pacifying hand. "One moment, Mistoo Itchlin, one moment, I implo' you, seh! I assu' you, Mistoo Itchlin, I pay you eve'y cent in the worl' on the laz of that month?
Also, Voltaire. Yesseh. An' Napoleon Bonaparte. Lawd By'on muz 'ave 'ad a beaucheouz chi'og'aphy. 'Tis impossible not to be, with that face. He is my favo'ite poet, that Lawd By'on. Moze people pwefeh 'im to Shakspere, in fact. Well, you muz go? I am ve'y 'appy to meck yo' acquaintanze, Mistoo Itchlin, seh. I am so'y Doctah Seveeah is not theh pwesently.
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