"
"You don't mean to say that I have been talking French to you all this
time!" cried Ardan, horror-stricken.
"The most elegant French I ever heard, backed by the purest Parisian
accent," replied Barbican, highly amused; "Don't you think so, Captain?"
he added, turning to M'Nicholl, whose countenance still showed the most
comical traces of bewilderment.
"Well, I swan to man!" cried the Captain, who always swore a little
when his feelings got beyond his control; "Ardan, the Boss has got the
rig on both of us this time, but rough as it is on you it is a darned
sight more so on me. Be hanged if I did not think you were talking
English the whole time, and I put the whole blame for not understanding
you on the disordered state of my brain!"
Ardan only stared, and scratched his head, but Barbican actually--no,
not _laughed_, that serene nature could not _laugh_. His cast-iron
features puckered into a smile of the richest drollery, and his eyes
twinkled with the wickedest fun; but no undignified giggle escaped the
portal of those majestic lips.
"It _sounds_ like French, I'd say to myself," continued the Captain,
"but I _know_ it's English, and by and by, when this whirring goes out
of my head, I shall easily understand it.
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