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Yes, I'm always well, in fact. At the same time nevvatheless, I fine myseff slightly sad. I s'pose 'tis natu'al a man what love the 'itings of Lawd By'on as much as me. You know, of co'se, the melancholic intelligens?" "No," said Richling; "has any one" "Lady By'on, seh. Yesseh. 'In the mids' of life' you know where we ah, Mistoo Itchlin, I su-pose?" "Is Lady Byron dead?" "Yesseh."
'Theh was a soun' of wibalwy by night, W'en 'Ush-'ark! A deep saun' stwike' ? Thaz by Lawd By'on. Yesseh. Well" The Creole lifted his right hand energetically, laid its inner edge against the brass buttons of his képi, and then waved it gracefully abroad: "Au 'evoi', Mistoo Itchlin. I leave you to defen' the city."
Also, Voltaire. Yesseh. An' Napoleon Bonaparte. Lawd By'on muz 'ave 'ad a beaucheouz chi'og'aphy. 'Tis impossible not to be, with that face. He is my favo'ite poet, that Lawd By'on. Moze people pwefeh 'im to Shakspere, in fact. Well, you muz go? I am ve'y 'appy to meck yo' acquaintanze, Mistoo Itchlin, seh. I am so'y Doctah Seveeah is not theh pwesently.
Seveeah continue my sala'y whilce I'm gone. no matteh the len'th. Me, I don' care, so long the sala'y continue, if that waugh las' ten yeah! You ah pe'haps goin' ad the ball to-nighd, Mistoo Itchlin? I dunno 'ow 'tis I suppose you'll be aztonizh' w'en I infawm you that ball wemine me of that battle of Wattaloo! Did you evva yeh those line' of Lawd By'on,
Richling reflected with downcast eyes. "It seems to me," he said, when he had passed his hand across his mouth in apparent meditation and looked up, "seems to me I'd conclude both, without delay." "Yes? But accawding to what fawmule, Mistoo Itchlin? 'Ay, 'tis theh is the 'ub, in fact, as Lawd By'on say. Is it to migs the two style' that you advise?"
Richling could but confess the whole thing was delicious. "Yo humble servan', seh," responded the smiling Creole, with a flattered bow. Then, assuming a gravity becoming the historian, he said: "In fact, 'tis a gweat mistake, that statement that Lawd By'on evva qua'led with his lady, Mistoo Itchlin. But I s'pose you know 'tis but a slandeh of the pwess. Yesseh.
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