to him,
he slackened his pace, took out a morocco case of cigars, and, lighting
one with his _briquet_, said, while he walked on, and bestowed as much
of its fragrance as he could upon the face of his intrusive companion,
"Vergeben sie, mein herr--ich bin erzogen in kaiserlicher dienst--muss
rauchen ein kleine wenig."[II-6]

"Rauchen sie immer fort," said Touchwood, producing a huge meerschaum,
which, suspended by a chain from his neck, lurked in the bosom of his
coat, "habe auch mein pfeichen--Sehen sie den lieben topf!"[II-7] and he
began to return the smoke, if not the fire, of his companion, in full
volumes, and with interest.

"The devil take the twaddle," said Jekyl to himself, "he is too old and
too fat to be treated after the manner of Professor Jackson; and, on my
life, I cannot tell what to make of him.--He is a residenter too--I must
tip him the cold shoulder, or he will be pestering me eternally."

Accordingly, he walked on, sucking his cigar, and apparently in as
abstracted a mood as Mr. Cargill himself, without paying the least
attention to Touchwood, who, nevertheless, continued talking, as if he
had been addressing the most attentive listener in Scotland, whether it
were the favourite nephew of a cross, old, rich bachelor, or the
aid-de-camp of some old rusty firelock of a general, who tells stories
of the American war.

"And so, sir, I can put up with any companion at a pinch, for I have
travelled in all sorts of ways, from a caravan down to a carrier's cart;
but the best society is the best every where; and I am happy I have
fallen in with a gentleman who suits me so well as you.--That grave,
steady attention of yours reminds me of Elfi Bey--you might talk to him
in English, or any thing he understood least of--you might have read
Aristotle to Elfi, and not a muscle would he stir--give him his pipe,
and he would sit on his cushion with a listening air as if he took in
every word of what you said."

Captain Jekyl threw away the remnant of his cigar, with a little
movement of pettishness, and began to whistle an opera air.

"There again, now!--That is just so like the Marquis of Roccombole,
another dear friend of mine, that whistles all the time you talk to
him--He says he learned it in the Reign of Terror, when a man was glad
to whistle to show his throat was whole. And, talking of great folk,
what do you think of this affair between Lord Etherington and his
brother, or cousin, as some folk call