"Are you camping out here too?" he asked, with a strong English
accent. "I'm not sorry for company."
Leon explained their misadventure; and the other told them that he
was a Cambridge undergraduate on a walking tour, that he had run
short of money, could no longer pay for his night's lodging, had
already been camping out for two nights, and feared he should
require to continue the same manoeuvre for at least two nights
more.
"Luckily, it's jolly weather," he concluded.
"You hear that, Elvira," said Leon. "Madame Berthelini," he went
on, "is ridiculously affected by this trifling occurrence. For my
part, I find it romantic and far from uncomfortable; or at least,"
he added, shifting on the stone bench, "not quite so uncomfortable
as might have been expected. But pray be seated."
"Yes," returned the undergraduate, sitting down, "it's rather nice
than otherwise when once you're used to it; only it's devilish
difficult to get washed. I like the fresh air and these stars and
things."
"Aha!" said Leon, "Monsieur is an artist."
"An artist?" returned the other, with a blank stare. "Not if I
know it!"
"Pardon me," said the actor. "What you said this moment about the
orbs of heaven - "
"Oh, nonsense!" cried the Englishman. "A fellow may admire the
stars and be anything he likes."
"You have an artist's nature, however, Mr.- I beg your pardon; may
I, without indiscretion, inquire your name?" asked Leon.
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