“‘For in the course of one revolving moon
He’s statesman, chemist, fiddler and buffoon.’”
“Dryden is honoured,” said Vestasian and that sweet, even voice of his. “But then he deserves it. But, Genius,” he continued, “you must come with me—the greatest stranger and the honoured guest.”
“What am I to do?” queried Plucritus.
“Find someone else,” returned the other.
For a second they looked at one another, and Plucritus turned to me.
“I find I shall not be able to stay very much longer. When I go, will you return with me or stay here?”
“Just as you like,” I answered. “Either place is as acceptable to me.”
“That means you will stay,” Vestasian declared. “I take it as a compliment.”
And he led the way to where he had been sitting.
Vestné rose as we approached.