"I will take you with me--but not as coachman, I think, Dumnoff.

We may find some more favourable sphere for your great physical strength." "Anything you like.

It is a good joke to dream of such a journey, is it not?
Especially when one is locked up for the night in the police-station." "It is certainly a relief to contemplate the prospect of such a change to-morrow," said the Count, his expression brightening in the gloom.
For a few moments there was silence between the two men.

Dumnoff's small eyes fixed themselves on the shadowy outlines of his companion's face, as though trying to solve a problem far too complicated for his dull intellect.
"I wonder whether you are really mad," he said slowly, after a prolonged mental effort.
The Count started slightly and stared at the ex-coachman with a frightened look.
"Mad ?" he repeated, nervously.

"Who says I am mad?
Why do you ask the question ?" "Most people say so," replied the other, evidently without any intention of giving pain.