"I have the honor to repeat it to you, sir," said the Marquis. "But are you here about a lawsuit? Answer, sir, answer, and do not deceive me!" "Sir!" said the Marquis, as if he were shocked with the indiscretion of the councillor. "Pardon my vivacity, sir. . . . If I appear to be well acquainted with what concerns you, it is because"--and the doctor hesitated--"it is because I have some relatives in the Aulic Council, and I am informed of all which passes there." "Ah, well! it is true, sir, I am here, unhappily, in regard to a lawsuit," said Létorière, sighing. "But, my young friend, permit me to tell you that you appear very unmindful of your business! Here you are reciting verses to the zephyrs; . . . admirable verses, it is true, but, between ourselves, hardly the means of gaining your lawsuit. Believe me, young man, if justice is blind she is not deaf, and there are a thousand ways of interesting your judges." "Alas! sir, I have seen my judges . . . and it is because I have seen them that I have but little hope. In my grief I ask of literature consolation and information; I especially ask it from my favorite poet. . . . I seek strength to wrestle against adverse fate in reading over these verses. Do you not think, sir, that this energetic, bold and sonorous poetry must reanimate enfeebled souls, as the warlike sound of a clarion reanimates discouraged soldiers?" The _savant_ was profoundly touched with the expression, at once simple and dignified, with which Létorière pronounced these last words. "Pardon an old man," said he, "the interest which he feels in you. But do you not exaggerate the unkindly feelings of your judges? Have you done everything in your power to interest them in your cause before giving up all hope thus?" "Those of my judges whom I have seen, sir, could have very little sympathy with me, and I ought not otherwise to expect to interest them in it." "Why so, my young friend?" "Our poet could, at a pinch, answer you, sir:" "'Velle suum cuique est, nec voto vivitur uno. * * * * Hic satur irriguo mavult turgescere somno; Hic campo indulget!'" . . .[7] "I understand, I understand," said the councillor, laughing at the just and malignant application of these verses. "I know it is said in Vienna that the Councillor Flachsinfingen would have figured well enough among the convivial gourmands of the banquet of Trimalchyon, and that the brutal baron of Henferester would have been able to wrestle in the Roman circus among the wild beasts. In fine, you poor student! poor poet! poor nightingale of the sweet song I . . . what relations could you have with this dull paunch of a Flachsinfingen, who dreams only of his table? What could you have said to him if it were not--" 'Quæ tibi summa boni est? Uncta vixisse patella Semper? . . .'[8] "It is the same thing with this gladiator, this brute of Henferester . . . whose great heavy body I cannot see without recalling these words of our divine master: