, as if I were living in a bag of vleas. I am Cheorge Dargo.
Ven you find Cheorge Dargo without iteas you may co to the nearest
ghemist ant ask for poison. Take your ben ant sit down, ant I will show
you if I haf iteas or no.'

CHAPTER XVII

The work thus abruptly begun lasted for weeks, and Darco's enthusiasm
drove Paul before it as if it had been a hurricane. Pauer lounged for
a day or two, and then betook his golden visage and saffron eyes to
London, leaving the pair to their labours. Paul and Darco worked on an
average twelve hours a day, and it happened occasionally that a group of
terrified _commis voyageurs_ would assemble in the passage outside the
study anticipating murder, whilst Darco, in Alsatian English, declaimed
the passion of his heroine. There were deep wells of laughter here and
there in the course of that dramatic pilgrimage.

'Now, vat I want,' said Darco, 'is just this: It is Binda's endrance.
She is a leedle vat you would call distraught, not mat, but ankrished.
She is very pretty, she is very bale. She stands at the door, and Raoul
does not see her. She is there for vive zeconds to a tick, not more, not
less--vive zeconds; write it down. Enter Binda, pause, unobserved, vive
zeconds. Have you got it down? She is priddy, she is bale, a leedle
touch of colour under the eyes; she is tressed in vite, some filmy kind
of stuff, with a plue bow at the throat and a bit of scarlet ribbon, or
red flower, or zomethings, in her hair. And zo she stands at the door
and she looks at Raoul, and he toes not know she is there, ant vor just
those vive zeconds there is no music, not a note, and then---- Look
here, I am Cheorge Dargo; I can write a blay, and stage a blay, and
baint the zeenery for a blay, and I can gompose the music for a blay,
and I can berform on every damned inztrument in the orghestra. And this
is vod Binda does: Bale and bretty, do you zee? at the door for vive
zilent zeconds, and then with all her zoul one great appeal, she crosses
to Raoul at his desk petween zecond and third O.P., ant she coes like
this.'

The fat, brief-statured man waddled in his enthusiasm from Binda's
imaginary entering-place towards Paul with an allure of comedy-pathos
so piercing in its effect that the amanuensis cast both hands in the air
with a shriek of helpless mirth, and, losing his balance, wallowed on
the floor amidst untidy heaps of books, newspapers, and manuscript.

'Vod is the madder?' Darco cried, r