Though his
neighbours were all laughing he was sober, and in a moment I
understood why.
"I am very deaf," he said in a whisper. "My name, Monsieur, is
Philippon. I am a--"
I made a sign to him that I could not hear.
"I am the silk merchant," he continued pretty audibly, but with a
suspicious glance behind him. "Probably you have--"
Again I signed to him that I could not hear.
"You have heard of me?"
"From M. Gringuet?" I said very loudly.
"Yes," he answered in a similar tone; for, aware that deaf
persons cannot hear their own voices and are seldom able to judge
how loudly they are speaking, I had led him to this. "And I
suppose that you will do as he did?"
"How?" I asked. "In what way?"
He touched his pocket with a stealthy gesture, unseen by the
people behind him.
Again I made a sign as if I could not hear.
"Take the usual little gift?" he said, finding himself compelled
to speak.
"I cannot hear a word," I bellowed. By this time the crowd were
shaking with laughter.
"Accept the usual gift?" he said, his fat, pale face perspiring,
and his little pig's eyes regarding me balefully.
Pages:
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313