- end_line
- 10321
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.726Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10238
- text
-
"Indeed, and what did you say to him?"
"I said, 'Thank you, sir, but I don't see the connection,'"
"How could you so unsweetly answer one with a sweet voice?"
"Because, I recalled what the son of Sirach says in the True Book: 'An
enemy speaketh sweetly with his lips;' and so I did what the son of
Sirach advises in such cases: 'I believed not his many words.'"
"What, barber, do you say that such cynical sort of things are in the
True Book, by which, of course, you mean the Bible?"
"Yes, and plenty more to the same effect. Read the Book of Proverbs."
"That's strange, now, barber; for I never happen to have met with those
passages you cite. Before I go to bed this night, I'll inspect the Bible
I saw on the cabin-table, to-day. But mind, you mustn't quote the True
Book that way to people coming in here; it would be impliedly a
violation of the contract. But you don't know how glad I feel that you
have for one while signed off all that sort of thing."
"No, sir; not unless you down with the cash."
"Cash again! What do you mean?"
"Why, in this paper here, you engage, sir, to insure me against a
certain loss, and----"
"Certain? Is it so _certain_ you are going to lose?"
"Why, that way of taking the word may not be amiss, but I didn't mean
it so. I meant a _certain_ loss; you understand, a CERTAIN loss; that is
to say, a certain loss. Now then, sir, what use your mere writing and
saying you will insure me, unless beforehand you place in my hands a
money-pledge, sufficient to that end?"
"I see; the material pledge."
"Yes, and I will put it low; say fifty dollars."
"Now what sort of a beginning is this? You, barber, for a given time
engage to trust man, to put confidence in men, and, for your first step,
make a demand implying no confidence in the very man you engage with.
But fifty dollars is nothing, and I would let you have it cheerfully,
only I unfortunately happen to have but little change with me just now."
"But you have money in your trunk, though?"
"To be sure. But you see--in fact, barber, you must be consistent. No, I
won't let you have the money now; I won't let you violate the inmost
spirit of our contract, that way. So good-night, and I will see you
again."
"Stay, sir"--humming and hawing--"you have forgotten something."
"Handkerchief?--gloves? No, forgotten nothing. Good-night."
"Stay, sir--the--the shaving."
"Ah, I _did_ forget that. But now that it strikes me, I shan't pay you
at present. Look at your agreement; you must trust. Tut! against loss
you hold the guarantee. Good-night, my dear barber."
With which words he sauntered off, leaving the barber in a maze, staring
after.
But it holding true in fascination as in natural philosophy, that
nothing can act where it is not, so the barber was not long now in being
restored to his self-possession and senses; the first evidence of which
perhaps was, that, drawing forth his notification from the drawer, he
put it back where it belonged; while, as for the agreement, that he tore
up; which he felt the more free to do from the impression that in all
human probability he would never again see the person who had drawn it.
Whether that impression proved well-founded or not, does not appear. But
in after days, telling the night's adventure to his friends, the worthy
barber always spoke of his queer customer as the man-charmer--as certain
East Indians are called snake-charmers--and all his friends united in
thinking him QUITE AN ORIGINAL.
- title
- Chunk 5