"Yes? But accawding to what fawmule, Mistoo Itchlin? 'Ay, 'tis theh is the 'ub,' in fact, as Lawd By'on say. Is it to migs the two style' that you advise?" "That's the favorite method," replied Richling. "Well, I dunno 'ow 'tis, Mistoo Itchlin, but I fine the moze facil'ty in the poetic. 'Tis t'ue, in the poetic you got to look out concehning the _'ime_. You got to keep the eye skin' faw it, in fact. But in the p'osaic, on the cont'a-ay, 'tis juz the opposite; you got to keep the eye skin' faw the _sense_. Yesseh. Now, if you migs the two style'--well--'ow's that, Mistoo Itchlin, if you migs them? Seem' to me I dunno." "Why, don't you see?" asked Richling. "If you mix them, you avoid both necessities. You sail triumphantly between Scylla and Charybdis without so much as skinning your eye." Narcisse looked at him a moment with a slightly searching glance, dropped his eyes upon his own beautiful feet, and said, in a meditative tone:-- "I believe you co'ect." But his smile was gone, and Richling saw he had ventured too far. "I wish my wife were here," said Richling; "she might give you better advice than I." "Yes," replied Narcisse, "I believe you co'ect ag'in, Mistoo Itchlin. 'Tis but since yeste'd'y that I jus appen to hea' Dr. Seveeah d'op a saying 'esembling to that. Yesseh, she's a v'ey 'emawkable, Mistoo Itchlin." "Is that what Dr. Sevier said?" Richling began to fear an ambush. "No, seh. What the Doctah say--'twas me'ly to 'emawk in his jocose way--you know the Doctah's lill callous, jocose way, Mistoo Itchlin." He waved either hand outward gladsomely. "Yes," said Richling, "I've seen specimens of it." "Yesseh. He was ve'y complimenta'y, in fact, the Doctah. 'Tis the trooth. He says, 'She'll make a man of Witchlin if anythin' can.' Juz in his jocose way, you know." The Creole's smile had returned in concentrated sweetness. He stood silent, his face beaming with what seemed his confidence that Richling would be delighted. Richling recalled the physician's saying concerning this very same little tale-bearer,--that he carried his nonsense on top and his good sense underneath. "Dr. Sevier said that, did he?" asked Richling, after a time. "'Tis the vehbatim, seh. Convussing to yo' 'eve'end fwend. You can ask him; he will co'obo'ate me in fact. Well, Mistoo Itchlin, it supp'ise me you not tickle at that. Me, I may say, I wish _I_ had a wife to make a man out of _me_." "I wish you had," said Richling. But Narcisse smiled on. "Well, _au 'evoi'_." He paused an instant with an earnest face. "Pehchance I'll meet you this evening, Mistoo Itchlin? Faw doubtless, like myseff, you will assist at the gweat a-ally faw the Union, the Const'ution, and the enfo'cemen' of the law. Dr. Seveeah will addwess." "I don't know that I care to hear him," replied Richling.