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¡¡¡¡"None." ¡¡¡¡"The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!" ¡¡¡¡"Ah!" said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese than I am a monkey! Who are you dressed up in that way?" ¡¡¡¡"A man dresses as he can." ¡¡¡¡"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?" ¡¡¡¡"Yes; a Parisian of Paris." ¡¡¡¡"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?" ¡¡¡¡"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is true but not any better than the Americans do." ¡¡¡¡"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You see,
oil paintingmy friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign parts French clowns." ¡¡¡¡"Ah!" ¡¡¡¡"You are pretty strong, eh?" ¡¡¡¡"Especially after a good meal." ¡¡¡¡"And you can sing?" ¡¡¡¡"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the streets. ¡¡¡¡"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?" ¡¡¡¡"Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of his younger days. ¡¡¡¡"Well, that's enough," said the Honourable William Batulcar.