afternoon
to discuss the advisability of taking a certain messuage--to wit, the
Villa Buichi--for the space of three years. As a result of that
discussion I have formed certain conclusions. In the first place, I am
satisfied that to dwell with you or any of you in the Villa Buichi or
any other habitation for the space of three years presents a prospect
so horrifying as to belittle Death itself. Secondly, while my main
object in visiting the said messuage was to insure, if possible,
against the future contraction of some complaint or disease of the
hams, I have, I fear, already defeated that object by sitting for
upwards of ninety minutes upon a chair which is rather harder than the
living rock, and whose surface I have reason to believe is studded with
barbs. Thirdly, whilst we are all agreed that a rent of fourteen
thousand francs is grotesque, I'd rather pay twice that sum out of my
own pocket than continue an argument which threatens to affect my mind.
Fourthly, the house is not what we want, or where we want it. The
prospect of wassailing in your own comic banqueting-hall is alluring,
but the French cook believes in oil, and, to us, living in the town,
every passing breeze will offer indisputable evidence, not only of the
lengths to which this belief will go, but of the Pentateuchal effects
which can be obtained by a fearless application of heat to rancid
blubber. Fifthly, since we can get nothing else, and the thought of
another winter in England is almost as soul-shaking as that of living
again amid French furniture, I suppose we'd better take it, always
provided they fill up the basement, put on a Mansard roof, add a few
cupboards, and reduce the rent. Sixthly, I wish to heaven I'd never
seen the blasted place. Lastly, I now propose to repair to the _Cercle
Anglais_, or English Club, there in the privacy of the _lavabo_ to
remove the traces of the preserved apricot recently adhering to my
right shoe, and afterwards to ascertain whether a dry Martini, cupped
in the mouth, will do something to relieve the agony I am suffering as
the direct result of concentrating on this rotten scheme to the
exclusion of my bodily needs. But there you are. When the happiness
of others is at stake, I forget that I exist."

With that, he picked up his hat and, before we could stop him, walked
out of the shop.

With such an avowal ringing in our ears, it was too much to expect that
he would remember that he had ordered th