“Kindly explain.”

“The alphabet belongs equally to the whole human race; no one can deny that.  I have taken eight letters and combined them in such a way as to produce the word Seingalt.  It pleased me, and I have adopted it as my surname, being firmly persuaded that as no one had borne it before no one could deprive me of it, or carry it without my consent.”

“This is a very odd idea.  Your arguments are rather specious than well grounded, for your name ought to be none other than your father’s name.”

“I suggest that there you are mistaken; the name you yourself bear because your father bore it before you, has not existed from all eternity; it must have been invented by an ancestor of yours who did not get it from his father, or else your name would have been Adam.  Does your worship agree to that?”

“I am obliged to; but all this is strange, very strange.”

“You are again mistaken.  It’s quite an old custom, and I engage to give you by to-morrow a long list of names invented by worthy people still living, who are allowed to enjoy their names in peace and quietness without being cited to the town hall to explain how they got them.”

“But you will confess that there are laws against false names?”

“Yes, but I repeat this name is my true name.  Your name which I honour, though I do not know it, cannot be more true than mine, for it is possible that you are not the son of the gentleman you consider your father.”  He smiled and escorted me out, telling me that he would make enquiries about me of M. Carli.

I took the part of going to M. Carli’s myself.  The story made him laugh.  He told me that the burgomaster was a Catholic, a worthy man, well to do, but rather thick-headed; in short, a fine subject for a joke.

The following morning M. Carli asked me to breakfast, and afterwards to dine with the burgomaster.

“I saw him yesterday,” said he, “and we had a long talk, in the course of which I succeeded in convincing him on the question of names, and he is now quite of your opinion.”

I accepted the invitation with pleasure, as I was sure of seeing some good company.  I was not undeceived; there were some charming women and several agreeable men.  Amongst others, I noticed the woman in man’s dress I had seen at the theatre.  I watched her at dinner, and I was the more convinced that she was a woman.  Nevertheless, everybody addressed her as a man, and she played the part to admiration.  I, however, being in search of amusement, and not caring to seem as if I were taken in, began to talk to her in a stream of gallantry as one talks to a woman, and I contrived to let her know that if I were not sure of her sex I had very strong suspicions.  She pretended not to understand me, and everyone laughed at my feigned expression of offence.