“As to that, I am decidedly of the opinion that you have lost nothing on that score; but, between you and me, there is something mysterious connected with that woman in the black domino. So far as the queen is concerned, I imagine that she is one of those good-hearted, sympathetic women, the kind who have more tears than talent—a sort of Niobe.”
“Look at that man yonder leaning against the corner of the Texas, and see if you can discover anything singular about him.”
“Why, that is Henry of Navarre; of course there is nothing strange about him. Why do you ask the question?”
“He is not the man who wore that uniform when we started from Memphis.”
“Why do you conclude that he is not the one who personated Navarre at the ball?”
“He is not quite so tall, but has a more dignified carriage; and then he does not mingle with us, or participate in any of our amusements, as the real Navarre did. The original Napoleon has also slipped out of his costume, and a counterfeit has slipped in; and the strangest part of the mystery is that no one knows what has become of the parties who originally personated Navarre and Napoleon. Now if this is done in order to enable those men to play a little joke on the ladies, there is no harm in it, but I suspect that some sort of mischief is afloat. I guess it will appear in the wind-up that these two men, and the black domino, are in some way interested in each other; and you may be sure, if they are, that it will produce mischief.”
“The truth is, we are all engaged in playing a farce, and I am heartily ashamed of my part of it—it reminds me of Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’”
“I cannot by any means indorse that idea, for I have been very much interested in Ingomar’s story.”
“It is too tedious. Give me something lively—something to make me laugh—such as ‘Bill Arp,’ or ‘Artemus Ward,’ ‘Don Quixote,’ or ‘Mark Twain.’”
“I prefer love stories. I like to read about women who prefer death to a loveless marriage, and men who are always getting into scrapes in attempting to protect virtue.”