De Chauxville sat down, stated his requirements to the waiter in a
single word, and offered his companion a cigarette, which Vassili
accepted with the consciousness that it came from a coroneted case.
"I am rather thinking of visiting Russia," said the Frenchman.
"Again," added Vassili, in his quiet voice.
De Chauxville looked up sharply, smiled, and waved the word away with a
gesture of the fingers that held a cigarette.
"If you will--again."
"On private affairs?" enquired Vassili, not so much, it would appear,
from curiosity as from habit. He put the question with the assurance of
one who has a right to know.
De Chauxville nodded acquiescence through the tobacco smoke.
"The bane of public men--private affairs," he said epigrammatically.
But the attache to the Russian Embassy was either too dense or too
clever to be moved to a sympathetic smile by a cheap epigram.
"And M. le Baron wants a passport?" he said, lapsing into the useful
third person, which makes the French language so much more fitted to
social and diplomatic purposes than is our rough northern tongue.
"And more," answered De Chauxville. "I want what you hate parting
with--information."
The man called Vassili leaned back in his chair with a little smile. It
was an odd little smile, which fell over his features like a mask and
completely hid his thoughts.
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