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Sir Asinus tears his hair, and declares that his friend's ignorance of Latin is shocking. "The ordinary plea when the rendering of disputed passages is not to our taste," says Jacques. "But I must go. By the by, the worthy Doctor came near seeing you in the Governor's chariot." "It was more than he dared to recognise me," said Sir Asinus grandly. "Dared, eh?"
And all the crowd do likewise, laughing merrily; and over them the blossoms shower with every odorous breeze; and with the breeze mingles a voice which whispers in a maiden's ear: "Arcadia at last!" Perhaps a few veritable extracts from the published correspondence of him whom, following a habit of his own, we have called Sir Asinus, may show the origin of some allusions in our chronicle.
"No! don't trouble yourself!" cries Sir Asinus; "it is not necessary." "It is no trouble," says Jacques; "but as you are probably about to return to town yourself, I will not send him." "To town? Indeed, I am about to do no such thing. It is not every day that one gets a taste of the country." "You stay?" "Yes." Jacques groans, and imprecates sleep to descend upon his friend.
The great room the Apollo famed in history for ever blazed from end to end with lights; the noble minstrels of the festival sat high above and stunned the ears with fiddles, hautboys, flutes and fifes and bugles; the crowd swayed back and forth, and buzzed and hummed and rustled with a well-bred laughter; and from all this fairy spectacle of brilliant lights and fair and graceful forms arose a perfume which made the ascetic Sir Asinus once more happy, causing his lips to smile, his eyes to dance, his very pointed nose to grow more sharp as it inhaled the fragrance showering down in shivering clouds.
"Too late!" said Jacques, laughing; "the Doctor will find the stairs suddenly darkened if you close the door; and then he will know you are not absent, only playing him a trick!" "True! true!" cried Sir Asinus in despair; "where shall I go? I am lost!" "The refuge of comedy-characters is left," said Jacques "the closet!" "You will betray me!"
These words were uttered in a confidential whisper to Belle-bouche by Sir Asinus, who was leaning forward gracefully in a tall carven-backed chair toward his companion, who reposed luxuriously upon an ottoman covered with damask, and ornamented quoad the legs with satyr heads. Belle-bouche suffered her glance to follow that of her companion.
He rose from the card-table feeling, like Catiline, ripe for conspiracy and treason. He re-entered the ball-room and strolled about disconsolate a stalking ghost. Just as he made his appearance a lady entered from the opposite door, and Sir Asinus felt the arm of a gentleman, against whom he was pressed by the crowd, tremble. He turned and looked at him.
We could sing my Latin song together he would take the bass; and in three hours I should make of him a convert to my political ideas." "Indeed? Shall I mention that you wish to see him?" "No, I believe not," said Sir Asinus; "I am busy at present." "At what yawning?" "No, you fop! I am framing a national anthem for the violin." "Tune the 'Exile's Return, eh?" "Base scoffer! But what news?"
You are getting into such a state of disgust with your books, that you'll end by espousing Mother Bobbery, you unfortunate victim of political ideas." "I disgusted I tired of my books I tired, when I have this glorious song to sing!" And at the top of his voice Sir Asinus chanted: "Aurum de Arabia, Thus et myrrhum de Saba, Tulit in ecclesia Virtus asinaria!"
At all events, Belle-bouche played with her lace cuff, and her countenance wore nothing more than its habitual faint smile. Jacques heaved a sigh, and said he believed he ought to go. The Doctor rose, and pressing Belle-bouche's hand, kindly took his leave followed by Jacques, who cast a last longing, lingering look behind. As for Sir Asinus, we regret to speak of him.
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