"Where are you going, unhappy profaner of ecclesiastical psalmody?"
"To see Belle-bouche," sighed Jacques.
Sir Asinus tore his hair.
"Then I'll go too," he cried.
"I've the last horse at the Raleigh," observed Jacques with melancholy pleasure. "Good morning, my dear friend. Take care of yourself."
And leaving Sir Asinus with a polite bow, Jacques went down the staircase. As for Sir Asinus, in the excess of his rage he sat down and composed a whole canto of an epic—which luckily has not descended to our day. The rats preserved humanity.[(Back to Table of Content.)]
CHAPTER IX.
THE LUCK OF JACQUES.
Belle-bouche was busily at work upon a piece of embroidery when Jacques entered; and this embroidery was designed for a fire-screen. It represented a parroquet intensely crimson, on a background uniformly emerald; and the eyes of the melancholy lover dwelt wistfully upon the snowy hands selecting the different colors from a tortoise-shell work-box filled with spools of silk.
Belle-bouche greeted the entrance of her admirer with a frank smile, and held out her hand, which poor Jacques pressed to his lips with melancholy pleasure.