“Don’t let that trouble you,” said I; “I shall be delighted to have your company. When you know me better, as I hope you will do, you will find that if such were not the case I should tell you so as frankly. I shall remain in Cairo some little time; so that beyond our arrival in Egypt, I can answer for nothing.”
He said that he expected letters at Alexandria which would govern his future movements. I thought he seemed sad as he said so, and imagined, from his manner, that he did not expect very happy tidings. Indeed I had made up my mind that he was by no means free from care or sorrow. He had not the air of a man who could say of himself that he was “totus teres atque rotundus.” But I had no wish to inquire, and the matter would have dropped had he not himself added—“I fear that I shall meet acquaintances in Egypt whom it will give me no pleasure to see.”
“Then,” said I, “if I were you, I would go to Constantinople instead;—indeed, anywhere rather than fall among friends who are not friendly. And the nearer the friend is, the more one feels that sort of thing. To my way of thinking, there is nothing on earth so pleasant as a pleasant wife; but then, what is there so damnable as one that is unpleasant?”
“Are you a married man?” he inquired. All his questions were put in a low tone of voice which seemed to give to them an air of special interest, and made one almost feel that they were asked with some special view to one’s individual welfare. Now the fact is, that I am a married man with a family; but I am not much given to talk to strangers about my domestic concerns, and, therefore, though I had no particular object in view, I denied my obligations in this respect. “No,” said I; “I have not come to that promotion yet. I am too frequently on the move to write myself down as Paterfamilias.”
“Then you know nothing about that pleasantness of which you spoke just now?”
“Nor of the unpleasantness, thank God; my personal experiences are all to come,—as also are yours, I presume?”
It was possible that he had hampered himself with some woman, and that she was to meet him at Alexandria. Poor fellow! thought I. But his unhappiness was not of that kind. “No,” said he; “I am not married; I am all alone in the world.”