The major came up to me, and I went up to him as soon as we set foot on the platform of the railway station.
"Sir," said I, "I am a Frenchman, Claudius Bombarnac, special correspondent of the _Twentieth Century_, and you are Major Noltitz of the Russian army.

You are going to Pekin, so am I.I can speak your language, and it is very likely that you can speak mine." The major made a sign of assent.
"Well, Major Noltitz, instead of remaining strangers to each other during the long transit of Central Asia, would it please you for us to become more than mere traveling companions?
You know all about this country that I do not know, and it would be a pleasure for me to learn from you." "Monsieur Bombarnac," replied the major in French, without a trace of accent, "I quite agree with you." Then he added with a smile: "As to learning from me, one of your most eminent critics, if I remember rightly, has said that the French only like to learn what they know." "I see that you have read Sainte Beuve, Major Noltitz; perhaps this sceptical academician was right in a general way.

But for my part, I am an exception to the rule, and I wish to learn what I do not know.

And in all that concerns Russian Turkestan, I am in a state of ignorance." "I am entirely at your disposal," said the major, "and I will be happy to tell you all about General Annenkof, for I was all through the work with him." "I thank you, Major Noltitz.

I expected no less than the courtesy of a Russian towards a Frenchman." "And," said the major, "if you will allow me to quote that celebrated sentence in the _Danicheffs_, 'It will be always thus so long as there are Frenchmen and Russians.'" "The younger Dumas after Sainte Beuve ?" I exclaimed.