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Nichel Schmidt had known me for a long time; his wife was fat and good-looking; I had painted her portrait. "Ah, Master Christian," said he, squeezing my hand, "what happy circumstance brings you here? What procures me the pleasure of seeing you?" "My dear Monsieur Schmidt, I feel a vehement, insatiable desire to sleep in the Green Room."
"Well," said Nichel Schmidt, stupefied, "the room is vacant, but I entreat you, do not serve me a bad trick." "It would be a worse trick for myself than for you, monsieur." I gave my packet to the servants, and installed myself for the time with the drinkers. For a long time I had not felt so calm and happy. After so many doubts and disquietudes, I touched the goal.
He replied that he lived at Granada for the most part, and that if I called on him there I should see some pretty ladies and other nice things. As for his name, it was the Marquis of Nichel. I said that meant Marquis of Nothing, whereon the soldier answered that I seemed very curious, and that was just what he meant to tell me nothing.
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