While the hoarse murmurs without still echoed through the hall, King Abrazza refilling his cup thus spoke:—“You were saying, my dear lord, that of all meals a supper is the most social and free. Very true. And of all suppers those given by us bachelor demi-gods are the best. Are they not?” “They are. For Benedict mortals must be home betimes: bachelor demi-gods are never away.” “Ay, your Highnesses, bachelors are all the year round at home;” said Mohi: “sitting out life in the chimney corner, cozy and warm as the dog, whilome turning the old-fashioned roasting jack.” “And to us bachelor demi-gods,” cried Media “our to-morrows are as long rows of fine punches, ranged on a board, and waiting the hand.” “But my good lords,” said Babbalanja, now brightening with wine; “if, of all suppers those given by bachelors be the best:—of all bachelors, are not your priests and monks the jolliest? I mean, behind the scenes? Their prayers all said, and their futurities securely invested,—who so carefree and cozy as they? Yea, a supper for two in a friar’s cell in Maramma, is merrier far, than a dinner for five-and-twenty, in the broad right wing of Donjalolo’s great Palace of the Morn.” “Bravo, Babbalanja!” cried Media, “your iceberg is thawing. More of that, more of that. Did I not say, we would melt him down at last, my lord?” “Ay,” continued Babbalanja, “bachelors are a noble fraternity: I’m a bachelor myself. One of ye, in that matter, my lord demi-gods. And if unlike the patriarchs of the world, we father not our brigades and battalions; and send not out into the battles of our country whole regiments of our own individual raising;—yet do we oftentimes leave behind us goodly houses and lands; rare old brandies and mountain Malagas; and more especially, warm doublets and togas, and spatterdashes, wherewithal to keep comfortable those who survive us;— casing the legs and arms, which others beget. Then compare not invidiously Benedicts with bachelors, since thus we make an equal division of the duties, which both owe to posterity.” “Suppers forever!” cried Media. “See, my lord, what yours has done for Babbalanja. He came to it a skeleton; but will go away, every bone padded!” “Ay, my lord demi-gods,” said Babbalanja, drop by drop refilling his goblet. “These suppers are all very fine, very pleasant, and merry. But we pay for them roundly. Every thing, my good lords, has its price, from a marble to a world. And easier of digestion, and better for both body and soul, are a half-haunch of venison and a gallon of mead, taken under the sun at meridian, than the soft bridal breast of a partridge, with some gentle negus, at the noon of night!” “No lie that!” said Mohi. “Beshrew me, in no well-appointed mansion doth the pantry lie adjoining the sleeping chamber. A good thought: I’ll fill up, and ponder on it.” “Let not Azzageddi get uppermost again, Babbalanja,” cried Media. “Your goblet is only half-full.”