"I have heard it said, 'That the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong,'" he said. "Was it a psalmist, a prophet or a poet of our own time who so spoke? But no matter, it is very good—but not complete. One might add 'That the reward is not always to the industrious.'"
Observing that he was being spoken to, the Japanese leaned forward.
"I beg your pardon?" said he, inquiringly.
"There is philosophy in the wine," observed the German, and he added to the luster of his brilliant scalp by rubbing it with a handkerchief. "And with me its wisdom stays upon the tongue."
The Japanese smiled sedately.
"I have noticed that," said he.
The other laughed and quivered with all his round little body.
"Good," said he. "I was in hopes that you would wake up." Then he went on in a sort of musing tone, but with dancing eyes: "Many a man has toiled early and late to make a plant fruitful; and the result of his work is that some idle one, who laughs and drinks and snaps his fingers at labor, has the ripened fruit fall into his lap."
Matsadi seemed not to grasp the meaning of this; at any rate he smiled in a vague sort of way and contented himself with nodding his head. Very little passed between them after this, as the Japanese had his attention taken by the lady beside him; but later, in the coat room, Ashton-Kirk heard him say to the German:
"Your simile of the industrious planter and the vagabond was a very excellent one. And it frequently happens so. I was much struck with it."