"This Payen is undoubtedly a tavern-keeper?" said Don Cleophas. "Exactly so," replied the Devil. "But let us continue our observations." "Let us then turn to the women," exclaimed Leandro; "I am impatient to hear their histories." "I will yield to your impatience," answered the Spirit; "but there are yet two or three unfortunates on this side of the house, whom I would first show to you: you may profit by their unhappiness. "You observe, close by the melancholy songster, that pale and haggard face; those teeth, which gnash as though they would make nothing of the iron bars that ornament the window. Yon is an honest man, born under influence of malignant star, who, with all the merit in the world, has vainly striven, during twenty years, to secure a modest competence; he has scarcely, with all his efforts, succeeded in gaining his daily bread. His reason fled its seat, on his perceiving a worthless fellow of his acquaintance suddenly mount the top of fortune's wheel by a lucky speculation. "His neighbour, again, is an old secretary, whose head was cracked by a stroke of ingratitude, which he received from a courtier, in whose service he lived during sixty years. No praises were too great for the zeal and fidelity of this ancient servant; who, however, never claimed their just reward, content to let his assiduity and services speak for themselves. His master, far from resembling Archelaus, king of Macedonia, who refused favours when demanded, and bestowed them when unasked, died forgetful of his merits, leaving him just enough to pass his days in misery, and the refuge of a madhouse. "I will only detain you with one more, and it is with the man who, leaning with his elbows on the window, appears plunged in profound meditation. You see in him a Signor Hidalgo, of Tafalla, a small town of Navarre, which he left for Madrid that he might make the best use of his wealth. He was bitten with a rage for surrounding himself with the literati of the day; and as these animals are always seen to most advantage at feeding-time, he kept open house for their entertainment. Authors are an unpolished and ungrateful race; but, although they despised and snarled at their keeper, he was not contented until they had eaten him out of house and home." "Poor fellow," said Zambullo: "he no doubt went mad with rage at his awful stupidity." "On the contrary," replied Asmodeus, "it was with regret at finding himself unable to keep up his menagerie. Well! now let us pay our respects to the ladies," added the Devil.