He drank a deep draught, curled up his
swaggering moustache and suddenly broke into one of his
disconcerting peals of laughter.
"I haven't told you of the Gr„fin von Wentzel; I don't know what
put her into my head. There has been nothing like it since the
world began. Mind you--a real live aristocratic Gr„fin with a
hundred quarterings!"
He proceeded to relate a most scandalous, but highly amusing
story. An amazing, incredible tale; but it seemed familiar.
"That," said I, at last, "is incident for incident a scene out of
_L'Histoire Comique de Francion._"
"Never heard of it," said Pasquale, flashing.
"It was the first French novel of manners published about 1620
and written by a man called Sorel. I don't dream of accusing you
of plagiarism, my dear fellow--that's absurd. But the ridiculous
coincidence struck me. You and the Gr„fin and the rest of you
were merely reenacting a three hundred year old farce."
"Rubbish!" said Pasquale.
"I'll show you," said I.
After wandering for a moment or two round my shelves, I
remembered that the book was in the dining-room.
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