"_
"A French journal--"
"Yes, I tell you."
"And you are going to Pekin?"
"Through to Pekin."
"Ah! Monsieur Bombarnac, Providence has sent you onto my road."
"No, it was the managers of my journal, and they delegated to me the
powers they hold from Providence, courage and confidence. Anything I
can do for you I will."
"Thanks, thanks."
"What is your name?"
"Kinko."
"Kinko? Excellent name!"
"Excellent?"
"For my articles! You are a Roumanian, are you not?"
"Roumanian of Bucharest."
"But you have lived in France?"
"Four years in Paris, where I was apprentice to an upholsterer in the
Faubourg Saint Antoine."
"And you went back to Bucharest?"
"Yes, to work at my trade there until the day came when it was
impossible for me to resist the desire to leave--"
"To leave? Why?"
"To marry!"
"To marry--Mademoiselle Zinca--"
"Zinca?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle Zinca Klork, Avenue Cha-Coua, Pekin, China!"
"You know?"
"Certainly. The address is on the box."
"True."
"As to Mademoiselle Zinca Klork--"
"She is a young Roumanian. I knew her in Paris, where she was learning
the trade of a milliner.
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