"Pray be seated. To what do I owe the honour of your
visit?"
Anastase had put on a perfectly new uniform for the interview, and
his movements were more than usually alert and his manners a shade
more elaborate and formal than on ordinary occasions. He felt and
behaved as young men of good birth do who are serving their year
in the army, and who, having put on their smartest tunic, hope
that in a half light they may be taken for officers.
"Will you allow me to explain my position in the first place?" he
asked, seating himself and twisting his cap slowly in his hands.
"Your position? By all means, if you desire to do so. It is an
excellent rule in all discourses to put the definition before the
argument. Nevertheless, if you would inform me of the nature of
the affair, it might help me to understand you better."
"It is very delicate--but I will try to be plain. What I am, I
think you know already. I am a painter and I have been successful.
For the present, I am a Zouave, but my military service does not
greatly interfere with my profession. We have a good deal of time
upon our hands. My pictures bring me a larger income than I can
spend."
"I congratulate you," observed Montevarchi, opening his small eyes
in some astonishment.
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